District 9: Stained
by Aragem
Summary: Post D9. This story chronicles Wikus's life as a Prawn in District 9. Secrets are uncovered as he learns more about the Prawn and soon he discovers that it's not just humans that he should fear now.
1. Prologue

He didn't know if the smell was that strong or his senses had gotten stronger. Either way, the smell of blood made him dizzy and the pain made it hard to move. The smear that had once been a mercenary was less than three feet away.

Wikus's clawed hand dug into the dirt and the alien limb trembled as he attempted to tow himself out of the open. More would come. MNU, the army, police, investigators, reporters, everyone.

A pair of pale Prawn feet appeared before his face and he looked up despite the nausea that threatened to make him vomit. His eyes scanned over a skirt with the hips cut out for the jutting hips of a prawn and up along a wasp waist with a broad chest.

He heard the clicks and hums of Prawn speech, but he couldn't comprehend what was spoken. A fog filled his head muffling his feelings, his sight, and his hearing.

Then he was hauled up. He wailed from the pain in his limbs and he heard his skin rip at his thorny shoulder where alien shell was pushing its way out of his body. He was towed, his dirty shoes leaving ruts in the dirt and kicking over the occasional garbage.

He passed out.

* * *

A sharp smell that overwhelmed his senses brought him gasping to consciousness. He sat up sharply, but froze when his changing body protested. He whimpered looking down at his now bare torso. He could see dark hard shell peeking at him through the bloody holes of his flesh.

Disgust and horror over whelmed him as a throaty sob tore from his throat.

"Shut up." A guttural Prawn voice ordered him.

He finally noticed a pale colored Prawn standing over him. The Prawn's coloring was of shades of gray and streaks of white. It regarded him with large eyes.

****** was on the ship?

"What?" Wikus was usually fluent in understand the aliens' guttural hums and clicks, but the word eluded him.

You know him as Christopher Johnson. Was he on the ship? Yes or no? The Prawn raised it's claws in frustrated motion of impatience.

"Yes, he was. . . .he was on the ship. . . with his son." Wikus muttered

The Prawn sagged back on his haunches. He deflated with apparent relief and ran a claw over his mandibles and turns away. Wikus noticed for the first time that this Prawn had rather long antennas. Whereas most of the Prawn had antenna's that reminded him of a grasshopper, this one had long thing ones like that of a lobster. The appendages were held down his back and knotted together by three red beads.

However, there was something "different" about this Prawn. Wikus didn't understand it. This one looked like any other of the million Prawns in District 9 that he had seen, except for the long antennas, but for some reason, he "felt' that this Prawn was different somehow.

The Prawn turned around after picking something up from the table. It held what looked like a hypo gun for a medical injection. Lay back. You need to sleep through the change.

"What? Back the hell away, man!" Wiku cursed as he pushed himself to the edge of the cott that he had found himself on. "Who the FUCK are you!?"

The human name I was given is Scott Haroldson

The Prawn approached him, aiming the hypo to his neck. Wikus jerked again, smacking the hypo away with a gnarled hand. "Wait a fucking minute!"

The change in its later stages can be painful and mentally damaging. It's easier to hide a sleeping person than one that is constantly thrashing and screaming in pain. I'm taking a risk in helping you. The MNU milita will kill me and take you if they find you here.

What the Prawn was saying made sense, but could he really trust him? "Did you know Christopher?"

I know everything. The fuel collecting, the skiff under his shack, and about you. Christopher had more allies than you think he did.

"Then why the fuck didn't you bastards help us!?" Wikus felt rage boil in his veins. If they had more help, more fire power. . . . so much trouble could have been avoided.

The Prawn rasped out a frustrated sigh. We don't have time for this. The reason why we didn't get involved is firstly, we didn't trust you. Secondly, if Christopher failed or was killed, then the rest of us could take over his work. Better for one to die than the whole nest.

Wikus's eyes nearly bugged out. He had thought that Christopher had been the only Prawn that knew about the ship. That it was Christopher's idea alone. "So this whole thing was a plan from the beginning?"

Yes and no. Look, I need to move you out of here and the change is accelerating and very soon you'll be in no condition to be moved. This drug will put you in a deep painless sleep for a week and also help the change along smoothly.

Wikus stared at him and at the hypo-gun in his hand. "I don't want to be a Prawn."

Scott leaned forward, his patience was at an end. Too bad. The only medicine and equipment that would have cured you in this solar system was on the ship and it is gone. MNU is out there looking for you. If they find you, then I don't need to tell you what will happen. They are looking for a half human half Prawn creature. Not a Prawn in community of 1.5 million Prawn. You do the math, figure it out. And if you still don't want to be a Prawn, then get the fuck out of here and let me go back to my life which I am putting on the line to help you only because Christopher asked me to assist you if anything was to happen. Make up your mind now. I hear the Humvees."

Wikus took a moment to grieve for his lost humanity and his life. He now understood that his previous life was gone. There was no going back. There was no going back to his home, his wife, his parents, his work, all of it was gone and wasn't coming back.

He lifted his chin and stared at the Prawn with a hatred that made his teeth hurt. "Do it."

The hypo exhaled the drug into his neck and Wikus said goodbye to his humanity.


	2. Waking Up

When Wikus awoke, his body was not his own. He stared at his bare legs, and instead of pale hairy limbs, smooth hard double jointed legs sprawled on the cot. His body actually creaked and clicked as he moved and it unnerved him so that he stood still.

Then he sensed things with his antennas and feelers that the dull senses of humans could never perceive. He could "taste" the air with his antennas. He could "taste" the medicine that had been used on him while he was unconscious and the presence of another Prawn nearby.

He tried to speak, but his mind knew the words, but his mouth was no longer human. His voice was replaced with clicks and deep hums. He halted, his heart what would could be called his heart dropping to the floor.

The door opened and Scott Haroldson walked in carrying a bucket. Wikus's antenna pricked when he "tasted" that it contained meat in the air. Scott set the bucket on a small table nearby and Wikus glanced at it and drew back when he saw that it was raw.

Scott released deep purr, a Prawn chuckle. "You still have your mind."

Wikus glanced up at him surprised. He could better understand Scott. He not only understood his words, but could actually hear the amusement in them. He could hear Prawn's speak and know what they were saying, but not the emotion in the words. Of course, he knew when a Prawn was angry or scared, but not the small things that comprise of communication. Sarcasm, kindness, patience, apologectic, and amusement in this case.

Wikus tried to speak again, but his mouth refused to work, to mold the words he had learned to do when he was a very young child. The tongue, teeth, and lips were not there to form his words.

Scott picked up a tablet and a piece of chalk and handed it to Wikus. The new Prawn stared at the cracked tablet for a moment and then scrawled a message with the chalk: WHAT DO YOU MEAN HAVE MY MIND?

Scott picked up a black cigarette holder with a white stick at the end and produced a lighter from an apron pocket. "There was a chance that you'd be as stupid and instinct based as the majority of 'em are."

Wikus's antenna's tilted in confusion and he wiped the tablet and scrawled: I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

Scott read the message and studied Wikus with an cocked eye ridge. "You never really paid attention to us. You worked in MNU, you supposedly studied us, impose all these rules and regulations on us, and even have us sign eviction notices, but you never paid any attention."

The pale Prawn brushed a thick claw over his head and took a seat on a stool. He studied Wikus with dull eyes as he took a long drag on his cigarette. "I recall one of your researches say that we are like ants without a queen. Well, he's correct, except that isn't the case for all of us."

Wikus waited, watching Scott take another drag and release a streamer of smoke between his feelers. Just as Wikus was going to motion for him to continued, Scott spoke, "Those ones out there. The ones that steal, scavenge, hunt, and run with gangs, those are what you would call Workers. Unless there is a strong leader that can reign them in, then they will act like scavengers that cannot think beyond three minutes in the future."

Wikus absorbed this information. Then he wiped his slate clean and scrawled: BUT YOU AND CHRISTOPHER ARE DIFFERENT?

"Yes, we are able to think ahead. To understand consequences of our actions. To make plans that go beyond our next meal or cat food fix. The same as you apparently. If you had been one of them, you would have dove into the meat without a thought."

Wikus thought about his past experience with Prawn. They had always did what they wanted to do freely. . . until they got caught by MNU or police, and only then did they look sorry or frightened. It was like catching a three year old stealing cookies. The kid would gleefully eat every cookie in the jar, but faced with discipline or an angry parent, then and only then would the child be very sorry. Sorry of what he did or sorry he got caught is up for debate.

Wikus scrawled: WHAT HAPPENED TO LEADER?

Scott glanced at Wikus's face and stated, "He died."

Those two words were spoken in a stiff tone with sharp clicks that Wikus decided not to persue it. Instead, he scrawled: WHEN CAN I TALK?

"You can talk. You just keep trying to do so with a human mouth which you don't have any more. You know the words, you can understand us. You just have to say them yourself with your mouth."

Wikus attempted to ask his next question, but all that came was broken grunts and hums. He groaned frustrated and scratched into the tablet. I CAN'T!

"Yes, you can. Just practice."

Wikus scratched: FUCK YOU.

Scott hummed and produced a Prawn smile. "Sir, I do believe that you are way more fucked than I am in this room."

* * *

It seemed that the eviction to District 10 had been postponed until further noticed. The assault on MNU, the battle in District 9, the mother ship departing, and last, but certainly not least news of MNU's illegal genetic research. There was a public outrage. It was strange, the people who the Prawns to leave now deplored the acts of MNU scientists.

So for a while, all talks of eviction was stopped. For now.

Fortunately, for Wikus, Scott had a radio. Wikus constantly stayed within hearing of the small radio that hummed out news. MNU was under investigation with Tania's father under house arrest. He acted to see Tania, but he dare not step out of Scott's shack for fear of being recognized.

But who would recognize him? He had grown half a foot taller with long spindly legs and his coloration was green and black. He had fully became Prawn.

The first few days had been hard. Not only was he finding speech a problem, but he had to relearn how to walk. He had a ankle that bent back that would allow him to run fast and to spring far. Scott had watched him stumble across the shack with an amused Prawnish smirk.

But eventually, within two weeks of the day the mothership left, Wikus found that he could move and walk easily and that he could speak, but with an accent.

Scott's shake was box shaped like the hundreds of rows of shacks that was District 9. However, it was . . .neater, more straight. Scott had a single table with two stools and along the western wall was a set of shelves with variety of items neatly placed. Everything from cans of food, tools, and even medicine was placed. Right next to it was a refrigerator with a padlock on it. Wikus wondered what a Prawn could possessed that would warrant it being locked, but he decided not to inquire too much into it.

"You need a name." Scott murmured to Wikus as they both ate from a soup can.

Wikus looked up, his mandibles drawing the bits of stew into his mouth. "I do have a name. Wikus van de Merwe."

"No, you can't go by that name anymore. You go around calling yourself that, they'll catch you for sure. Pick something else. Something American or European as humans tend to call us."

Wikus blinked and released a deep sigh. Scott was right and he hated it. "Fine. Call me Willie."

* * *

That night, Scott sat across from Wikus after they finished with dinner and he had tossed the cans away into a trash bin. Wikus was astounded to see that Scott actually had and used a trash bin. The pale Prawn stared hard at the green Prawn. "Tell me what happened."

Wikus began from the beginning. From finding the tube of fluid and being infected, to finding Christopher and his son's skiff, to the battle in the MNU HQ and the dash to the ship. It was close to midnight by the time he finished.

Scott only interrupted him a few times to ask for some more detail or to probe him for more information. Then when Wikus finished his tale, he lit up a cigarette and stuck the black holder between his mandibles. "Just as we feared. You humans never cease to horrify me."

"I swear to God, I didn't know what they were doing. I was fucking there, man. They experimented on me too." Wikus shuddered, his carapace clicking as he remembered the torture. Cutting into his alien arm and shocking him to force him to shoot.

"So that's why Christopher took his son and left." Scott muttered. "The original plan was to load up all the Prawn and leave, but it seems that humans didn't want us to leave after all. At least, not until they got what they wanted."

"So he will come back?" Wikus asked with a lilt in his voice.

Scott looked at Wikus. "Yes, definitely. And with help. Promises are important to us. When you make a promise, there is no conditions or buts. . . .if you promise something, then you do it. Simple as that."

But three years was a long time to wait. . . .


	3. Visitors

Thanks for the reviews. Didn't think that this would hit it off so well.

* * *

"_Father said that you were hatched on our planet too." A small high clicks quipped at him. _

_Scott glanced down at his ankle to a pair of blue eyes staring up at him. Little Christopher Junior, or CJ as one human had dubbed him, was sitting on a small stool with the projection of their home solar system making his carapace blue. _

"_Yes, I was hatched on our planet and I made a very sad mistake of leaving it." Scott replied. He had a rag in hand and had been wiping dirt and dust off tool in Chrisopher Johnson's shack. He had been asked to watched CJ while his father and a few others ventured into the city for much needed tools._

"_Father said that we come from here." CJ pointed at a large continent. _

"_Ah, you and your father have the look of being from the grasslands." Scott set aside the rag and stepped over to glance at it. "I come from here." He pointed at a small island in the souther hemisphere._

_CJ studied the island with a tilt of his head. "It's so small."_

"_Don't you go thinking that bigger is better. Yes, your grasslands were bigger, but my island was lovely." Scott lowered himself onto a seat, towering over the child and the projector. "Especially at night. When the moons, on a clear night, would reflect in the bobbing water's surface. . . .it's like watching light dance for you."_

"_Do you miss it?" CJ piped glancing up at the larger and pale Prawn._

_Scott was silent for a moment. "Yes, I miss it very much, little one."_

_* * * _

"Scott. Scott! We have visitors." Wikus broke him from a memory.

Scott gave his unwanted house guest an annoyed look. "Let them in, dammit. Can't you see that I am thinking?"

"I see you smoking a goddamn cigarette and staring at nothing." Wikus snapped. "I don't know if we can trust them or not."

Scott cursed and stood, pushing aside the radio he had been wiping clean with a rag. He threw the rag down onto the small table and stalked to the door. He snatched it opened and his eyes narrowed. "Its you."

"We love you, too, Scottie." A high young Prawn voice greeted.

"Don't call me that and get in." Scott stood to the side.

Wikus watched two Prawn come inside the shack. The first one, and the one he automatically knew was the one who spoke, was a young Prawn. He was only 5 ½ feet tall and was lanky. He had a quick movement about him as his antennas flicked in the air curiously. He was a deep red color and wore what had been a black shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

The second one was a much taller Prawn. Very tall, nearly 8 feet tall and he had to stoop a bit to keep from brushing his head against the ceiling. He wore only what resembled a loin cloth about his waist. He was a chestnut brown coloring with a splash of tan along his joints.

The smaller one noticed him first and chirruped at him. "Hello there, I am Nicky and that is Bart behind me. Though Scottie might introduce us as Dumb and Dumber."

Scott was already heading toward a cookie tin that housed his cigarettes with a lighter in hand. Wikus glanced at him and then stared back at the visitors.

"Just thought we come to let ourselves be known. Because Scottie there tries to forget we exist. But we don't let him by coming over often." The young Prawn actually winked at Wikus.

"The truth is if I don't bring him over now, he'll sneak over here to sate his curiosity and likely unnerve the both of you." The taller Prawn spoke in a deeper set of hums and clicks.

Nicky actually approached Wikus and touched his arm. Wikus drew back and much to his chagrin the youngest circled him.

"Amazing. The change is so complete. When I sensed him, I only sensed another of us."

"I"m not one of you." Wikus quickly corrected. "This is just temporary. . . .until Christopher comes back."

"Hopefully they won't move us until he does." Nicky hopped, literally hopped over to the stool and sat down.

Scott cocked an eye ridge. Obviously, he didn't want their visitors to get too comfortable. "Don't get your hopes up, youngling. The humans will get their shit together soon and move us."

Nicky craned his head toward Scott. "You are just love and sunshine, Scottie."

Bart lifted his chin and spoke. "Nicky, hush. Scott, we saw him."

The relaxed, or in Scott and Wikus's case irritated, atmosphere froze. Scott stopped in mid-motion of lighting up a cigarette and lifted his face to Bart's. Nicky's antennas's wilted, and like a cat or a dog's ears, flatting against his head. Wikus's twisted his head from Bart to Scott wondering who "him" was.

"Where and when?" Scott asked calmly, but in a low tone that brought a chill down Wikus's back.

"Yesterday, the eastern district. Where the Nigerians had holed up. . . ." Bart replied a soulful look in his eye.

Scott made a disgusted snort. "I should have guessed."

Nicky chimed up, "This could be a good thing for us. . . you know."

The look Scott gave the teen Prawn made the youngling draw away, his antennas's flat against his head as if he wanted to disappear on the spot. Even Wikus drew away from the heat of that gaze.

"He'll definitely be coming to see you." Bart spoke.

Wikus pricked his antennas's anxiety setting in. What was going on? Who was "he"?

"When that happens I'll deal with it. Now get out. You brought your news and I don't see any injuries so you don't need treatment." Scott turned away, puffing out a small cloud of smoke.

"Nicky, come on." Bart called and then his glanced at Wikus. "You come too."

"But. . . ." Wikus muttered. He still didn't feel safe leaving the shack.

"Trust us. You'll be alright. There are no humans around and they stopped searching District 9 for you days ago. Also, they will not recognize you." Bart's tone made it finally and by his urging and Nicky's prodding his back, he stepped outside in the light for the first time in two weeks.

He remembered the smell. Burning trash, rotting meat, and other vile smells that he had grown accustomed too working for MNU. But now. . . .his senses enhanced, these smells were more acceptable. He was able to get past the stench and small what it had to offer. Possible food, which territory belong to who, and possible danger.

He twisted this way and that, in order to see what the source of each smell. Nicky kept a hole on his arm and towed him along a hill that was east to Scott's home. Bart led the way, easily climbing the hill with his long strong legs. Nicky and Wikus had some trouble, having to stoop forward to keep from sliding down the steep. Wikus glanced up and noticed for the first time, an automatic rifle strapped to Bart's back.

When they arrived at the top, Wikus found himself breathing heavily. Nicky glanced back at the shack at the foot of the hill. "Think he'll be alright."

"He's Scott. He wouldn't die even if he was murdered." Bart replied.

"Who is. . . he?" Wikus asked through a long breath.

Before Nicky could speak, Bart touched his shoulder. "No, that is not our tragedy to speak of. That is Scott's business if he wants to share it with him."

"He'll eventually find out, living with him." Nicky quipped and then glanced at Wikus. "What is your name?"

"Wik. . . Willie."

"That sounds like a human male's body part." Nicky purred in a snicker.

"Better change it to William." Bart suggested and looked up at the sky where the mothership had hovered. "Gonna miss it. A constant reminder of home and better times."

Nicky looked up at the empty sky. "I never had a chance to see home. I'm second generation."

Wikus must have had a confused looked on his face, because Nicky quickly said, "It means that my Father had been on the ship when it arrived here and then had me. First Generation are those who were on the ship when it arrived. Second Generation is their children and third generation are those children's children."

"I see. . . ." Wikus replied understanding a little.

"Think that Christopher is home yet?" Nicky asked returning his gaze to the sky.

A resounding smack on his head made him stumble and Wikus flinch. Bart glared at the smaller Prawn and snarled in deep grunts. "We do NOT talk about that out in the open."

Nicky warbled an apology, stroking his head. Wikus glanced about, afraid someone had overheard, but they were alone here. It was early morning and some Prawn were nocturnal and others were scavenging for something to eat in the fields of trash.

"Have you eaten yet?" Bart inquired Wikus.

"Yes, we had some canned peaches this morning." The once human Prawn replied.

"Peaches! Fruit! Oh, that ****** is going to turn you into a fruit gobbling antenna waver like himself. Come, we will get you meat. You look like your type is from the Grasslands."

"Grasslands?" Wikus murmured confused as he was led down the steep.

* * *

Just as there were different ethnic humans, there were types of Prawn as well.

Firstly, there was Scott's type. His kind resided on islands and along coastal areas. Their coloring was usually from pale to light colors. Their antennas were very long, nearly the length of their bodies and very sensitive to their surroundings. It was not uncommon for Wavers, as Nicky translated for him, to tie their antennas behind their heads in order to keep them out of the way.

Grasslanders, as Nicky said Christopher and his son and as Wikus has the appearance of, were the majority. They resided on wide grassy fields and forests in tribal groups and clans. They were mostly shades of green with the ability to run far distances without the need to rest.

Nicky and Bart were Rocklanders. Their kind made their home on mountains and rocky areas which involved the need for sharper claws and stronger legs for climbing. Wikus noticed that their feet were larger with longer claws and their shells where thicker and a bit more bulkier in Bart's case. Their coloring was from a deep red to a bright brown.

"So all of you were on that ship, together?" Wikus asked once they had purchased their meat. He had been nervous that the meat seller would recognized him, but that fear was dashed when the man waved a cleaver at him and threatened to cut off his antennas if he kept staring at him. They left the stand and found a quiet and private place to eat in the junkyard. Bart and Nicky shared a seat on an overturned refrigerator and Wikus uprighted a very dented trash can and took a seat.

"Yes. The ship was mostly constructed by the Grasslanders, with some help from the Wavers, the thinkers of our kind, if you will." Bart explained tearing off a chuck of meat with his mandibles.

"Are you first generation?" Wikus asked, clutching his chunk with both hands, greatly curious.

"Yes, but I was very very young when my Father took me onto the ship. I barely remember our Home." Bart chewed through his meat and swallowing it in one gulp.

"That's why I envy my brother. This planet is all I know." Nicky was picking at his meat, twisted off bits with his claw tips and tossing them into his mouth.

"Brothers?"

"Half-brothers actually."

"Half-brothers? But. . . how? I thought you aliens were. . . self. . . .reproductive!" Wikus was very confused. He had attended the lectures and watched the educational videos explaining alien biology.

"We are. We have the option to be. But it's better not to be." Bart finished off his meat in one big bite. Wikus stared amazed at how wide the large Prawn could open his mouth.

Nicky turned bright eyes to Wikus and said, "It's like interbreeding is to your humans. We can self-replicate, but if the resulted child self-replicates, then there could be health problems or the child could be backward. And if that child self-replicated, then the chances of problems greatly increases."

"To avoid that, it is strongly recommended for those that have been hatched from self-replication should have their eggs fertilize by a partner or a friend whose traits you would want for your child." Bart checked his gun as he spoke.

"Bart was self-replicated by Father. But then years later father's friend asked him to help produce me and here I am." Nicky twisted more meat and ate that. "But I'm half in half. Half Grasslander and Half Rocklander."

"What's wrong Wikus? You haven't touched your food."

Wikus was staring at them, images and thoughts cascading through his mind like a torrent of flooding water. Morbid curiosity made him ask, "So if you Prawn are able to have sex with each other. . . why have sex with humans?"

Both Prawn flicked their antennas in silent surprised. Bart looked embarrassed coughing out a snort as he checked his check gun and Nicky cocked his head very curiously at his brother. Finally, Bart strapped his gun to his back and said to his brother, "Go play."

"What!? I'm an adult! I molted away my youngling skin ages ago!"

"You are still my younger brother and I refuse to discuss this with you around. Go play, scavenge, or do some chores. Better yet, go to Father. See if he has some errands for you. Be quick."

Nicky made several unhappy grunts and clicks with his mandibles, but he obeyed his brother. He chirruped a goodbye to Wikus and dashed off purposely leaving a cloud behind them that blew back into their faces. Bart snorted, "Children are very troublesome when they think they are adults."

"Back to my earlier question. . ."

"Yes, about that." Bart shifted uneasily on his seat. He tapped his thick claws on his knees and explained, "We can only breed at certain stages in our lives and even during special cycles. To you, that occurs every two to three months for three to seven days."

Wikus stared as he filed this information away. "So you can only have sex around four times a year?"

Bart nodded, "That is if you don't use recreational drugs to force your body into a breeding cycle, which is not very healthy to do. It can cause sterility or permanent damage to any child produce during that time."

"Is.. . . the sex pleasurable, I take it?" Wikus whispered in a low voice.

"Yes, very. Which is why most in District 9 turn to the prostitutes. We don't have birth control. If we breed, then chances are that there will be a child. And most don't want to be saddled with a child and will not allow anyone to take them. With humans, who are able to breed from young ages to the day they die, there is no risk of unwanted eggs and for a sum of money, the young adults can sate their lusts."

"But there have been. . . unlicensed egg laying." Wikus whispered. He didn't know why he was whispering, but he felt that Bart was partaking secrets to him. This was information he doubted anyone in MNU knew or wanted to take time to learn. He had learned more about Prawns in the last hour than he ever had in his years with MNU.

"Yes, mostly from young adults without supervision and those of second and third generation who aren't able to take into consideration of a forthcoming child." Bart glanced up at the sky. "It's noon. I think it's alright for you to return home. Scott is sure to have stopped brooding by now."

* * *

They returned to the crest of the hill where Nicky was sitting, hunched behind a upturn outer shell of a car watching Scott's shack. As they drew closer, Wikus noticed a white jeep parked outside and a man standing outside with a rifle in hand. He was a tall black man with very dark skin and wearing armor. Very much to Wikus's relief, he didn't bear the MNU logo nor did the jeep, but he hunkered down and almost crawled to Nicky's side.

"What. . .?"

Nicky chirped out a snicker. "The reason why Scott took up smoking. Hee hee, she's back."

Bart lumbered behind them, not bothering to hide. He stared down the hill at the man with the gun and the jeep. The man tilted his head up and stared back at Bart, no doubt noticing his gun peeking up from behind the Prawn's shoulder.

A very silent and deadly understanding happened between them. Don't fuck with me for I have a gun too.

"What is going on?" Wikus whispered looking frantic at the man and the jeep. "Who is "she"?"

"Anna Stanley. She comes from a facility that studies psychology. I think its called Thales. Named after one of your ancient teachers." Nicky whispered watching the shack with glee. "She has problem with her lungs. She has to breath through a tube thing when she has trouble breathing."

"Asthma? She has asthma?" She must be inside the shack because he couldn't see a woman anywhere around.

"Cigarette smoke really bothers her. That's why Scott smokes. To get her to go away. I bet he's in there puffing away." Nicky vibrated with a giggle.

"What does she want?" Wikus asked.

"To ask him questions and do some tests." Bart explained. "A friend told me that she'd had him look at splotches on paper and tell her what he shapes he sees. She makes him look at pictures, and to draw pictures with crayons. And she would always always ask questions. What does this mean? How does that make you feel? Do you like this? Do you dislike that? Said it nearly drove him out of his mind, but he stuck with it because she handed out his choice of cat food or money once they finished."

"She wants Scott to do the tests too. Because he's "different" from the other Prawn. So she comes by often and tries to get him to agree. But he tells her to go away every time. He took up smoking to try to get her to stay away, but it hasn't worked. But he tries."

A cough echoed from below and Wikus watched a small petite woman with brown hair tied up into a bun with thick glasses step out of the shack taking an inhaler from her pocket and drawing the medicine into her lungs. She wasn't unattractive. She was one of those types that if she took off the glasses and let her hair down and tried some makeup she would be rather fetching. But work before pleasure is doubtlessly is in this woman's mind.

*Mr. Haroldson, those cigarettes are not healthy.* Anna Stanley spoke in a long drawling voice which Wikus recognized as United States southern accent.

"Not for you, but for my kind, it has little effect." Scott's warbled at her as he stood at the doorway.

* I just want to help my people understand yours. * Anna straightened her back and pocketed her inhaler. She held in her other arm a clip board piled with several pages. * There are many people who simply see yours as animals *

"Well then, you shouldn't waste your time here then. Hurry, go forth. For the good of my people!" Scott waved an arm at her.

She gave him a small smile. * Sarcasm. You never cease to amaze me. *

Scott snorted and shut the door of his shack after stepping inside. The woman called out to her body guard and Wikus watched them load up and leave.


	4. Visitors At Night

Wilkus's bed was set up on a thin mat on the floor and Scott reclaimed his cot once he had fully recovered from the change. At first, he had thought sleeping on the ground would be very uncomfortable, but then he found that a hard shell protected him from hard bumps and poking while sleeping.

He been in a sound sleep when he heard a rapping at the door. He lifted his head in time to see Scott swing his legs over the edge of the cot and move smoothly to the door undisturbed. "Get up."

Wilkus pushed himself in a push up style, "Why? Who is it?"

Scott didn't answer. He opened the door and said, "What did you bring?"

A human girl's voice spoke, * Batteries for your radio, three apples, and a blanket. *

Wilkus shoved himself to his feet and craned his head out to see a girl who looked around ten to twelve years old standing at the doorway of Scott's shack. She was black with enough creme in her complexion to make him guess that one of her parents were white. She wore a simple dress that could have been a nightgown and wooden sandals were on her feet. Her dark hair was tied back from her face in a short braid.

"Come in." Scott motioned her inside and she walked in with a plastic bag and a blanket over her arm.

She paused when she noticed Wilkus. * I didn't know you had someone over. . . . *

"It's fine. William, move." Scott headed over to his cot.

"What the hell is going on?" Wilkus stared at the girl. "Who is she?"

*I'm Lerato. * The girl offered and still looked unsure about him.

"William, move, she's going to sleep there." Scott laid on the cot.

"It's my spot!" Wilkus stuttered in a series of grunts.

"No, it's my spot. My shack. She paid to sleep here, you are free loading. She's above you now." Scott groaned out from his cot. It was the tone of voice he used when he was loosing his patience.

But Wilkus was too perturb to let it go. "What the fuck is going on? This is non-human only section!"

Lerato drew back, her chocolate brown eyes glistening as if she might start crying. A lot deep groan resounded as Scott rolled out of bed, stalked toward Wilkus, his mandibles flailing in irritation. Before Wilkus could react, his antennas was snagged in one large pale claw and he was towed toward the door.

Wilkus figured that they were sensitive, but he had no idea how painful it was to have them yanked. He wailed in a low groan and it was like the pain was expanding from his antennas along his scalp and into his brain. He stumbled along with Scott out the door. Scott called back over his shoulder, "Go to bed, Lerato."

He released Wilkus after he slammed the door shut. The green Prawn cupped his skull with both hands and groaned as the pain ebbed away. Scott had somehow managed to snag his cigarette holder and lighter whilst towing Wilkus out. He lit up and drew drags on it while Wilkus recovered.

When the pain had subsided enough for him to put together words, he muttered, "Fuck, man, what the hell?"

"You start spouting that MNU regulation stuff, and people will catch on to you, you idiot." Scott scolded in a series of sharp clicks.

"Who is that girl?" Wilkus smoothed his antennas out. They still felt strange to him, and he hadn't fully accepted them as part of a his body, but the pain that still ebbed from them made him fully aware that they are truly part of him.

"Lerato. She comes here sometimes at night to sleep." Scott released a long streamer of smoke, the orange glow at the tip of his cigarette glowed brightly. "Her father isn't a very nice man, especially at night. So she comes here and for a price, I let her sleep here."

"How does she get in?" Wilkus whispered, his antennas tentatively flexing to make sure they worked properly.

"Through a hole in the fence. Her family is very poor so she doesn't live too far away, but she comes here because her father wouldn't think to look for her here."

Wilkus, at the moment, couldn't help but sympathize with the girl. "How did this arrangement get started?"

"You know, you ask a lot questions, freeloader." Scott clucked at him, fingering his feelers.

"I ask a lot of fucking questions because I don't fucking know anything." Wilkus snapped.

Before Scott could retort with his own smart ass remark, he halted, his eyes opening wide and then narrowing. He reached behind him and with a twist of his claws, undid the beads that weighted down his very long antennas behind his back. He pocketed them in an apron pocket and his antennas drew forward and Wilkus watched them. The part attached to Scott's skull was as thick as a human pinky, but became as thin as single strand of hair at the very end.

"Get inside." Scott ordered, tucking his long cigarette holder between his mandibles.

"What? What is it?"

"Get the fuck inside, right now." Scott snarled. "This doesn't concern you."

Wilkus felt the presence of another Prawn approaching and he hurried back inside. He still felt ill at ease at being outside and he didn't want to be escorted inside as he was escorted outside. He noticed Lerato sitting at the mat he had occupied before her arrival. She had slipped off her sandals and set her payment on Scott's table.

She was standing on her knees, her nose very close to window pane that had thick newspaper plastered onto it. She had peeled back a small corner and was peeking outside.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, his clicks coming out in soft taps.

*He comes by sometimes. Mr. Haroldson gets very upset. * Lerato whispered.

"Who comes by?" Wilkus moved silently to her side and knelt, his eyes peeking through the peeled paper.

**I don't know. I wanted to ask Mr. Haroldson, but he is so angry when He comes, I'm too scared to ask him. ** Lerato whispered ducking her head a a pale shape walked from the shadows.

Scott uttered a hiss and his mandibles clicked menacingly. A Prawn with very long antennas which floated about his head in a gentle slant approached Scott. Wilkus stared in amazement at the long black black trench coat he was wearing. Usually, Prawn chose clothing that can cover their pelvic and genital area and their chest, but often they were not interested in long coats or anything that covered their body.

And he was carrying a curious duffel bag.

Scott spoke in a series of clicks and hums that were much more complex than Wilkus could translate. He was speaking the Aliens' actual language. When the aliens first arrived, they had to break down their own language to a basic version so humans could translate and communicate. And not long afterward, once MNU took over, the outlawed their original language.

And this forbidden language, Scott was speaking fluently in a low growling tone.

The stranger responded in the same dialect. He was holding up a hand in a motion of peace and that he had came unarmed. They spoke for a few moments.

The stranger held up the duffel bag, offering it to Scott. Scott, in one fluid and quick motion, swiped at it, knocking it from the stranger's claw and the bag rolled and splashed open. Human money, folded South African rand was revealed. Wilkus's eyes bulge at the money. There was many large bills folded into tight wads. And there was a lot of wads.

_Take the money, Scott. Take the fucking money._

Wilkus knew that they wouldn't lack for anything with the money. They could get as much food as they wanted without having to ration it, get tools and supplies, and its there if there was ever anything they needed. Wilkus wished that Prawn's were capable of telepathy or else he would be arguing with him.

Scott flung his arm out, motioning for the stranger to leave. Now.

The stranger glowered at him and then without a click or a hum, he carefully picked up the rejected money and disappeared into the shadows. Scott hissed and then turned around, his antenna's flailing above his head and his mandibles were grinding in deep anger and irritation.

Both the spying human and the alien ducked down onto the mat and feigned sleep. Wilkus laid on his side and the small girl tucked against him, her hands sprawled before her and sher breathing deepen in a sibilance of sleep.

The shack door flung open and then snapped shut. Wilkus could hear Scott's mandibles clicking and he was making a deep growl. The stranger had deeply upset him and he busied himself around the room taking things out and putting them away.

Who was that Prawn and what was he to Scott? And where did he get that much money? Better, yet, what was he doing walking around with that much money in the first place?

Scott's feet halted near them and Wilkus concentrated on appearance of sleep. For several breaths, he could feel those piercing eyes on them. He concentrated on breathing deeply to mimic sleep.

"Lousy fakers." Scott muttered and then turned in for bed.

* * *

Lerato was gone before Wilkus woke up. The spot beside him was empty and the girl's sandals was gone as well. She had been sound sleeper, not stirring throughout the night, and for some reason, Wilkus found it comforting to feel her warm body next to his.

Throughout his marriage, he had not slept alone. Tania had always been there by his side. And it was the first time, since the Incident, that he felt a warm body sleeping next to his. He felt empty when he woke up and found Lerato gone.

Scott was already sitting at the table devouring one of the apples Lerato had brought. As if reading Wilkus's thoughts, "Lerato left early. She has work."

"She's twelve years old. Doesn't she have school?" Wilkus folded the mat up and tucked it between the wall and the end of Scott's cot.

"Her family is very poor. And her father drinks away what money he makes." Scott finished munching on the first apple and then popped the second one into his maw.

"Who was that last night?" Wilkus boldly asked as he reached for the third apple.

"None of your business." Scott swatted his hand away and then pointed to the shelf that held the canned food.

Wilkus stared at the canned fruit and soups and muttered, "If we had that money last night, we could buy fresh fruit."

There was a pause in Scott's munching, and then he said in a steady clicks, "Yes, and pay three times what it was worth because we are aliens."

"Lerato says he comes over sometimes." Wilkus turned to him, his arms crossed.

Scott popped the third apple into his mouth and started munching. Juice dribbled about his mandibles, but he sucked then in. He casted his eyes toward the table.

Wilkus's antennas flicked in irritation. "Goddammit, man! Who the fucking hell was that? You won't tell me, then I'll talk to Nicky."

Scott swallowed what remained of the apple and uttered a guttural hum. A Prawn sigh of irritation. "That was my son."

Wilkus's flicked up along with his eye ridges. Of course, it made sense. The stranger had Scott's coloring and antennas. Just like CJ looked like a mini-version of his father.

Scott wiped his mouth on a rag and then tossed the rag into a bin of dirty clothes to be cleaned later. "Worst mistake I ever made. Having Simon."

"Where did he get all that money?" Wilkus inquired with a tilt of his head.

"He has a gang. Gang comprised of second and third generation Prawn and a few bottom feeding humans. The reason you don't know about them is because they don't live in District 9. They manage to make their home, hideout, or headquarters in the city. The places you don't go to alone."

"Why. . .I don't understand. MNU would have rounded them up and brought them here." Wilkus followed Scott's movements with arched eye ridges.

"Because they know how to hide." Scott murmured as opened a drawer and drew out a crumpled back of cigarettes. He fumbled with it before finding a small stick and with a satisfied nod drew his cigarette holder from an apron pocket. "Secondly, the loudest thing that speaks to humans is money. And if you have a lot of it, you listen all the better."

Wilkus finally asked the question that had been lingering at the back. "Why didn't you take the money?"

"I do not take dirty money. He got that money through stealing, drugs, and prostitution. Secondly, I maybe older than most, but I am NOT elderly. I do not need my own son to care for me."

The bitterness in Scott's tone stopped any further questions from Wilkus. It was a pain that obviously ran deep for Scott and Wilkus had no business poking and prodding it.

But still, it would have been nice to have that money.

* * *

_Scott stared at the glowing globe of his world while small CJ slept in his bed which was crafted out of a cardboard box with scraps of blankets tucked inside. The older Poleekwa studied the series of islands that consisted of his home colonies._

_The door slammed opened and then swung shut. There was a groan as Christopher Johnson set a case of tools on the floor and then proceeded to tuck them against behind boards used for fire fuel. "He's asleep?"_

"_Yes, fell asleep a hour ago. He wanted to wait for you." Scott leaned forward to switch off the projector. "I didn't know you had this. How did you keep it hidden?"  
_

"_It's easier than you think. All they are interested in is weapons." Christopher stepped over to a cow's thick hanging from the ceiling and tugged it down. "Thank you for watching him at such short notice."_

_Scott shook his head. "I have nothing better to do. How did it go?"_

"_Very well. We left no traces that it was any of our people. And found a few things I didn't think we'd find." Christopher sat down across from Scott and ripped a strip of hide from the leg. "Are you hungry?"_

"_No, I am well. I have plenty now that. . . I have plenty." Scott watched Christopher eat and felt nauseated at the sight of meat. His people were not meat eaters. _

_Christopher stopped chewing and glanced up at him. "So it's true. He left."_

"_Yes, he left." Scott replied softly. Christopher looked to his son who was still a year out of his egg and was sleeping quietly. Scott could see Christopher imagining his CJ leaving him and he spoke, "Cling to them when they are small and everything you say is law. Beware when they are bigger and they began to question you."_

"_When CJ questions me, then I will question myself." Christopher stood putting the meat back onto it's hook. _

"_Are trying to tell me something with that comment?" Scott's tone was even and cool._

"_No, I am not commenting nor criticizing your parental practices. Simon was causing trouble within the District. I just hope the harm he causes beyond it will not come here. But. . . .you will miss him."_

_Scott stared at the green alien and then looked toward CJ who was so similar to Simon when he was just a year old. _

"_Yes, I will miss my son."_


	5. Shower

Scott had always been strict about cleanliness to an extent that Wilkus would begin to wonder if Scott had been a human like himself before.

Scott was often seen wiping his possessions down with a rag with a passion that was very obsessive compulsive like. Everything was neat and orderly, everything had a place and it was place there with care and precision of that of a surgeon. And if Wilkus ever had the audacity to leave something out of place, he would given a glare until he put it back right.

Wilkus had been in shacks before and even participated in searches. Everything had been cluttered and had would find himself stepping over whatever a Prawn saw that it found interesting. But Scott's shack was more like a cottage than a shack from the cleanliness within.

He even noticed that each morning, like in colonial times, Scott would pour clean water into a metal basin and wash his face and hands. He would rake water over his head and antennas until he was satisfied that he was clean and then allow Wilkus access to the water.

Wilkus respected cleanliness. He remembered how clean and immaculate Tania and his home had been. He would help her do dishes each night and even helped with her annual spring cleaning.

It hurt to think about her.

And his neck was hurting him for some reason.

Each time he moved his head, his neck ached as if something sharp was poking him. He touched his neck and felt nothing there. Then what was wrong? Was he still changing? He thought the change was complete.

He voiced his fears to Scott that afternoon who quirked an eye ridge at him.

"Let me take a look." Scott rose from his chair and moved around behind Wilkus. "Lean your head forward."

Wilkus complied and he felt Scott's hand on his neck and a claw poked at the underneath of a platelet at the back of his neck. He chirped a cry of pain as Scott scratched something underneath.

Scott clucked at him in a scolding tone. "You haven't been cleaning properly."

He brought two claws forward holding a brown color chip.

"What the hell is that?" Wilkus stared at it. Did it come from him!?

"Dirt, dust, dead carapace cells, oil, and sweat packed together into a solid. You have a few back there." Scott flicked it into a trash bin. "Surely, you've seen me bathe."

"Yes, but. . . I didn't think that you HAD to bathe your neck like that." Wilkus had thought Scott was being a neat freak when he watched his scrub beneath the plates at his neck.

"You don't have to do anything. Unless you don't mind getting a stiff neck and joints and a higher chance for sickness or infection." Scott predictably washed his claws in the basin. "We should go shower."

"Showers are closed until next week." Wilkus replied sourly.

District 9 held four shower halls which were open only twice a month for one day. Each Prawn was given one handful of liquid soap (which some have claimed smelled like dish washing soap) and given five minutes under a shower head that poured only cold water.

Scott had gotten Wilkus up as early as 4:00 in the morning to beat the line to the showers which opened at 6:00. Wilkus guessed that Scott hated sharing the showers or even using them after someone else. The experience made Wilkus miss his own bathroom.

He had taken for granted the fact that he could shower any time he wanted so when he was human and could enjoy the luxury of bathing in hot water as long as he wanted with scented soap without MNU agents harassing you to hurry and get out of the way.

Another thing he noticed was that human prostitutes lingered outside the bathhouse calling out their offers. Some of the younger Prawn answered with their own jeers and catcalls.

While waiting for Scott to finished inside, Wilkus stood outside holding the towel they had to bring because MNU did not hand out towels. He watched the human prostitutes lingering outside, trying to entice non-human johns.

All of them were women. Wilkus had heard that Prawn prefer sex with a human female because their genitals were similar to a Prawn vaginal genitalia during breeding. These were "low-class" hookers, not the urban ones that one would often see hanging on street corners after hours. These were women who were desperate for money, desperate enough to sleep with non-humans to get that money. And some may have come due to pimps who would put women through anything to get any money.

You couldn't expect much from non-humans. They had very little money to begin with and most of it went toward food and other necessities. And it was usually the younger Prawns who would fork over the money for sex.

A blonde hair and blue eyed girl caught Wilkus's eye. She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive either. She was thin, wearing what he assumed had been a second hand church dress that hung off her malnourished body. She was dirty, hair tangled and smudges on her arms and face. She didn't look a day over fifteen or sixteen, but she had the eyes of an old woman.

Doubtless, she was an orphan or came from such poverty that just to eat she had to come here and become an alien whore for things that were very far from handsome. However, looking at her made him think of Tania.

A dull ache went through him for his wife. He missed her so deeply that a sad thrill twittered through his mandibles. The girl glanced at him and tilted her head as if waiting. She thought he was interested. He quickly took interest in his towel, making a show of shaking it out.

Then to his relief or horror, a Prawn approached her. He was an earthy brown color with black splotches at his joints. He stood a tall eight feet and literally towered over her. He studied her, his antennas forward toward her face and hair. Wilkus could hear him asked her how much.

*150 rand.* She replied in a voice that should be gossiping with girlfriends.

"I have 120 rand." He replied, his antennas twitching.

"_Don't accept it, girl. Just go home. Don't let this bloody fucking thing touch you."_

*Alright. But one time.* She consented.

Wilkus felt a dull anger and sharp disgust as the Prawn put a claw on her shoulder and led her away. To his shack or some other private place, he didn't know. He didn't understand why he was so angry. It was none of his business, so the girl wanted to sleep with animals to make money. She was no relative of his and any of his concern.

Scott emerged from the showers followed by curses in human tongue of him being a prissy Prawn. He noticed direction of Wilkus's attention. "If you hire one, then you'll take her somewhere else. Not in my home."

"What? Hell, no!" Wilkus muttered. "I'm married."

Scott did his usual quirking of his eye ridge whenever he heard something from Wilkus that he found odd or amusing. "I never could understand this lifetime commitment you humans like to have with each other."

* * *

"So what should I do now?" Wilkus prodded at the back of his neck, he could actually fill the dirt chips back there. Surely they should get this bad so soon.

"I think you are going to molt soon." Scott wiped his hands on a clean towel.

"Molt!?" Wilkus stared at him. "You meat my skin is going to come off? I thought only young Prawn did that."

"Not skin, the outer layer of your shell. It's no surprise with your background." Scott explained. "Don't worry about it. Trust me, it hurts a little, but feels great at the same time."

Then Scott's smiled, a true Prawn smile. "This calls for a small celebration. A hot shower."

"Are you daft? The showers are closed and lock and don't run hot water."

"Then we go somewhere else."

* * *

This was crazy. This was stupid. This was foolish. This was suicidal. And this was headed off by none other than Scott himself.

Scott had announced that they were going downtown to a college that had a showers and Wilkus nearly fell off his chair. Despite Wilkus's refusal and complaints that this plan was horrible and not worth it, Scott was already making plans. And two hours after sunset, Wilkus was ducking low in an alley while Scott was making sure it was clear up ahead.

It had felt alien and numbing to Wilkus that Scott would drag him out here like this. Scott had always kept close to his shack and only left to shower in the shower hall. He had expected something liket his from Nicky or even Bart, but from Scott!?

Scott motioned for him to follow. Wilkus crept toward a barred back door that led into the college gym. Scott was sitting on his haunches poking and prodding at the lock with long thin wires. "This is fucking stupid."

"You said that." Scott mumbled. "Now don't drop that."

Wilkus was holding a large second hand makeup bag. Wilkus didn't know what was in it, Scott had dashed about, tossing this and that into it while the once human tried to talk him out of this dangerous plan. If they were found, then they could be shot on sight or worse yet, be taken into MNU's custody.

"Scott! This is stupid! A hot shower isn't worth what will fucking happen if we get caught!" Wilkus bemoaned.

"Trust me, I've done this before." Scott clicked back and then clucked with victory as the locked clicked and it swung open.

Wilkus stared after Scott as he entered the gym, his feet slapping the polished floor. He hesitated and then followed suit. He shut the locked the door behind him and saw Scott eagerly cross the large gym toward the back.

The gym was set up like any school gym. There were mats leaned against the walls, long bleachers set on either side and the basketball basket's hanging abandoned and forlorn. Wilkus wondered what sport was in season now? Not that he was ever into sports. He was never athletic in school or college. But he missed the small things from his old life. Seeing the sports commercials on tv and magazines.

The only light was the lamplight from outside. At Wilkus stayed close to the eastern bleachers lest he had to duck if an inquisitive face peeked in at the window.

He heard water running and hurried toward the source. The locker room was down a hall and split with women on one side and men on the other. The light in the women's side was on. Wilkus stepped inside to see Scott standing beneath rushing water.

He had angled two shower heads toward the center and was standing in the colliding falls. His apron had been stripped off and laid over a bench against the wall where the mirrors were set. Wilkus could feel the water's heat with his antennas and could see steam billowing off Scott's pale body.

Fuck it.

He tossed aside the back and showered. It felt so good. It was like he was back home again in his down shower. He stared down at the white tile and watched brown dirty water slosh at his feet. He had no idea that he was so dirty. The hot water warmed him too, it heated up his shell and his flesh beneath it.

"Sit down." Scott ordered him. Wilkus turned to see that Scott had collected the bag from the bench where Wilkus had tossed it. He was taking out a pair of long tweezers, an old toothbrush, and what looked to be several dentistry tools. "I'll get your neck cleaned."

Wilkus had a moment of homophobia as Scott knelt close behind him on the sloshing floor. He had never shared a shower before with another male before, but then he reminded himself that he was no longer human and Scott was never human to begin with.

It hurt, but it was a satisfactory pain. Like squeezing a black head or a pus filled boil. It hurt, but it nice to see the crud roll out of the skin. It was the same way whenever Scott pulled out long chips of dirt from his shell. He tossed them onto the tile and Wikus would watch them dissolved in the rushing hot water. When Scott was finished, Wilkus turned his head this way and that and found that the pain in his neck had gone. He was able to move it more freely without the sting of pain.

They stayed an hour longer, and then left.


	6. Meeting

It was hard to believe that it had been a full month since the change. Life was pretty much routine with Scott.

Get up in the morning and eat breakfast which usually consisted of canned fruit or veggies.

Do chores. Scott wiped down all his possessions on the inside and Wilkus was stuck making sure the outside was straightened. Sometimes it consisted of doing nothing but looking around and assuring Scott that everything was as it should be.

Scavenge. Wilkus would go out each late morning with Nicky, sometimes accompanied by Bart, to scavenge for something of value. Sometimes he lucked out finding something that would be usable, other times, they found nothing.

Lunch. He would purchase meat and eat with Nicky and Bart if he had come.

Mid-afternoon, he would return to see Scott brooding alone in his chair smoking and try to entertain himself. Either from reading one of the beat up old books he would find in the trash or receiving a visit from Nicky.

Night there was dinner and then bed. Sometimes, Lerato would come and tuck herself against him on the floor mat. He welcomed her and would instantly curled an arm around her whenever she joined him. She was warm and for a moment, he could pretend that she was Tania asleep beside him.

Nicky visited often with his youthful cheer and optimism. He came chattering away with Wilkus while annoying Scott at the same time. Wilkus soon learned that Nicky was a great source of information. He showed Wilkus where the best places there were to scavenge, what to look for and what to toss aside. He taught Wilkus about which Prawns were safe to be around and which should be avoided.

While scavenging, Nicky froze standing tall atop of a trash heap, his antennas flicking in the air. "Get down!"

Wilkus glanced up from sheets of metal that he had been brushing off. "What? What is it?"

"Get down!" Nicky snagged Wilkus's arm and pulled him along to crouch behind junk pile. Wilkus was able to catch a glimpse of a swerving truck and his mind scream Nigerians. Then he realized that he was hearing the loud clicks and garbles of Prawns along with the dull roar of an engine.

He held his breath and took a glance again and saw that truck bouncing over hills. It was dark with red graffiti painted onto the hood and sides. The markings looked like Prawn gang symbols. The Prawns were crowing to the sky and some of them even shot off machine rifles they clutched in their claws.

Nicky hugged the ground, his antennas flat against his head and Wilkus ducked down too. When the crowing and the roar of the engine faded away and was gone did Nicky prick his antennas up and lifted his head looking for all the world like a rabbit scenting the air.

"They're gone." Nicky said his shoulders sagging in deep relief.

"What the fuck?" Wilkus murmured as he got to his elongated feet. "Who were they?"

"You know that gang of humans? The ones that obeyed the human in a wheel chair?" Nicky asked glancing about. "Well, once they died, the Sons of Grisgharn took their place."

"Sons of what?" Wilkus stared at him. "What the hell doe that mean?"

"I. . . .I don't know. Grisgharn is a name of a very bad being. . . .Father told me when I was very little that if I was bad Grisgharn would come and take me away to a very bad place." Nicky muttered as he kicked leaves of old newspapers. "Let's go home."

"Whoa, mate, tell me more about them." Wilkus weaved around twisted iron to stand next to Nicky.

Nicky flicked his antennas as was his habit when he was nervous or agitated. "They say say they are going to liberate us, but all they do is crime. They steal money and weapons. They even do attacks on MNU sometimes. They say they are helping us, but it's not helping anyone. They only make us look bad and the humans mad at us."

"If they are suppose to be helping you guys, then why did you hide?" Wilkus remembering the attacks on MNU plants and raids of research facilities.

"Because they sometimes try to recruit you if you are young." Nicky picked his way through the junkyard.

Wilkus followed after him, mindful of where he put his feet. "Is that why Bart comes out with you so often?"

"Yeah. Bart use to be one of them, but he left. He said that they had gotten too extreme, but he wouldn't say in what way. Sometimes Garrick and Clonis comes around and to try to talk him back into joining, but he wants no part of them?"

"Garrick and Clonis?" Wilkus leaned back, holding his arms out to catch himself as they treaded down a steep. He still hadn't mastered the grace that the Prawns had in their long legs. Nicky walked down as easily as if he was walking on flat ground.

"Garry and Calvin are their Earth names, but they refuse to use them. So they make up their own names." Nicky waited at the bottom while Wilkus stumbled downward the last few feet. "But I like my name. Nicky is a cute version of Nickolas, Victory to the People."

* * *

That night, Lerato had came. Her payment was two pears and real prize to Scott, a set of glass plates. The plates were chipped and stained, but Scott gleefully accepted them, informing Lerato that she received two more nights free of payment for them.

Wilkus settled onto the mat with Lerato at his side and then he noticed that Scott was not preparing for bed. He was going out.

"Oi, Scott, where you off to?" He lifted his head and stared at his benefactor. Scott hardly ever left the shack, and barely stepped outside the door in the evening.

"Out. Taking a stroll, star gazing, and all that shit." Scott replied as he walked through the door.

Wilkus watched the door swing shut confused and then he shrugged it off. Scott was very eccentric for a Prawn and this was probably something strange that he didn't want to care or know about. Wilkus laid his head down and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Scott walked through the rows of shacks, listening to the crackle of fire and the hums and clicks of distant conversation of his fellow Poleepkwa. He hated walking through District 9. It wasn't because of the filth or the smell, but it was because it hurt him to see what was now called his home.

It was ugly and hard for him to see his kind reduce to this. Scuttling around looking for a leftover scrap of food, sifting through the humans' trash for useful items, and even begging humans for money.

Yes, these people were drones, but they were drones who've built cities and ships with their own hands. Now they scuttle on them and sometimes caw and snap at each other like territorial animals. A few even hissed at him at his passing, the fourth generation. . . .

Scott padded toward a low hanging shack comprised of sheets of rusted metal and rusted holes were covered with pieces of card board. He could see a dim light seeping through the edges of a door covered in newspaper and cardboard. He picked his way through the litter and the mud while reaching behind himself and undoing the beads tying back his antennas. He came forward and then slanted downward at his angle across the corner of his eyes and down his shoulders. He rapped three times on the door and then dragged his claws along the board and then rapped twice.

A door opened and a yellow face eyed him and then bowed him inside. As Scott entered the shanty, he raised his head high and felt the depression and ill feelings from outside roll off him. Here he was with his equals, or what was left of them.

The shack was low and some of them had to stoop a bit to keep from brushing their heads on the ceiling and in the middle of this one room shack was square table that was far too small for the seriousness of their discussion. The only light was a battery powered lantern sitting in the center illuminating their faces.

First was the Navigation officer, Ted. He was a short Grasslander with a dark green shell and large bright green eyes. His right antenna was bent at an odd angle due to an accident years ago. He was nervously twitching his head this way and that sensing the air.

There was a rapping sound as Nathaniel, Officer of Security drummed his thick claws on the table top. The dim light threw a dark contrast against his black shell and crimson eyes gave Scott a piercing look. He took up more space than any of the other three Officials sitting at the table. It must have been hard for him to attend this meeting. He was on the list of MNU's most wanted non-humans.

Beside Nathaniel a turquoise, smaller Poleepkwa fiddled with his antenna as a human would twirl a lock of hair in a thoughtful manner. Repair Control Officer, Hugo, had been born with a defect that warranted him a thin shell. There were scars of healed cracks and pieces broken from his shoulder plating. Due to his culture, he refused genetic engineering that would weed out his defect and allow his shell to be stronger and harder. How he managed to land such a high position despite his weaken nature spoke wonders about his skill and ability.

Lastly, there was Trevor a slim Grasslander with grass green shell and yellow eyes. He scowled at Scott with his firm no non-sense attitude that had served him well in treating stubborn patients as Chief Medical Officer. "You are late, Chief of Science."

"I was informed 10:00. It is 10:05." Scott replied evenly. He took his seat between Ted and Hugo, across from Nathaniel who continued to stare at him with such a penetrating stare that Scott felt uncomfortable under it. "Is there a problem?"

"How is the human?" Nathaniel growled out in deep clicks.

"He is no longer human. I verified it myself. He is as Poleepkwa as you and I." Scott replied arching his antennas.

"He still has a human mind." Ted murmured twitching his mandibles.

"The human female from the university says that our minds are similar to humans." Trevor clicked.

Nathaniel turned his hatred filled eyes on Trevor. "DO NOT COMPARE ME TO SLAGS!!!"

Trevor mandibles clicked and his antennas arched as he rose. Nathaniel rosed too responding in turn. Scott leaned back, there was going to be a fight.

"Sit down, Senator Grinsi has arrived." Ted spoke in a low tone.

Both Nathaniel and Trevor froze and then stood straight. Ted had already stood at attention and Scott casually stood. Hugo raised gracefully to his feet. He scented the leadership pheromones in the air and while it made Nathaniel, Ted, and Trevor shiver in response, Scott cocked an antenna.

The senator hobbled in, assisted by his young son, Timothy. Greg, the senator, was an earthy brown coloring with pale eyes. His antennas hung down across his face and his oral tentacles were very long and would make any human think of it as a beard. The senator took a seat at the head of the table that had been set aside just for him. His son stood at his father's side as any retainer would.

"I am glad to see you here today." He clicked in a low voice, his eyes unfocused. He was loosing his eyesight in his old age. He raised a cracked claw and the officers took their seats. Greg, or Grinsi, turned his gaze on Scott and spoke in the original and outlawed Poleepkwa language., "Tells us about this Wilkus."

Scott responded in the same language as they would speak until the meeting was adjourn. It was very important that what they spoke of not be easily translated by humans. If they were caught, they would only be charged with unlawful congregation and speaking Poleepkwa.

"He has fully changed. He is 98 percent Poleepkwa and has full memories of being human. The change went along much better than I expected. He underwent his molting last week and I wouldn't be surprised if he goes into a breeding cycle." Scott began his report glancing over each of them for their responses.

"How is it possible? I thought that genetic changes could only happen to us. And certainly not to the point of changing one species into another." Hugo murmured thoughtfully.

"It's an experiment that we never tested because we've never come across another sentient species before." Scott explained. "Anything could happen at this point."

"Let's concentrate on the issue here." Nathaniel's voice rose. "He is dangerous. He should be eliminated. He is MNU! He was one of the slaggers going about with eviction papers! Kill him! I say! Kill him!"

Nathaniel's hackles crackled as he clenched his fists. His hatred of humans ran very deep. One of his sons was a leader of Sons of Grisgharn.

"He helped Christopher get the fluid at his own life!" Trevor snapped. "If it wasn't for him, then Christopher would be dead and there would be hope! Because of him, help will arrive soon!"

"He is responsible for Fredrick's death! They shot him like a dog outside of his own home!"

"That was not Wilkus! That was the cruel mercenary! The one you had your fellows tear apart the day the mother ship left us!"

"He is STILL MNU!!!"

"He is a source of valuable information!"

"Enough." That one soft word and a plume of pheromones instantly stopped the back and forth argument. Nathaniel and Trevor relaxed and settled back into their seats. The senator turned to Scott. "Your opinion?"

"Wilkus is a selfish git." Scott began cocking a ridge at Nathaniel. "He isn't smart and he hates our kind and what he is now. However," he glanced at a scowling Trevor, "he knows what will happen to him if he was to give himself away. He won't risk his being captured by betraying us and he wants to be changed back as soon as Christopher returns with the armada. I don't 100 percent trust him, but I don't foresee him causing us problems unless he sees a way that it would turn him back."

The senator nodded. "Then I take it you recommend that he stays with you."

Scott quirked an antenna and then gave a slow nod. "He is better company than most considering his background."

"We vote." Senator announced. "All in favor of allowing Wilkus to continue to live?"

Scott, Trevor, and Hugo raised their hand.

"All opposed?"

Ted and Nathaniel raised their hand.

"Then Wilkus has been granted safety here in District 9, or as much as we can give him." The senator then inclined his head. "Now onto other matters."

Trevor raised his hand and Greg nodded to him. Trevor took his turn to speak. "We have been working closely with AHE."

Scott silently groaned and sagged a bit in his seat. Nathaniel's mandibles clicked irritated. AHE stood for Alien-Human Equality. They stood against MNU and any anti-alien propaganda. Anna Stanley was apart of such a group by studying Poleepkwa and comparing to humans. It was AHE's goal to have aliens have citizenship and the same rights as humans.

"How is that progressing?" Senator Greg asked with a small tilt of his head showing a curious manner.

"They are using the news leak from last month to their full advantage. They have even won support from PETA . . . "

"Are you serious?" Scott scoffed. "That is a group for abused animals!"

"It's support! AHE needs all the support they can get!" Trevor snapped. "Support we could get from our own people!"

"I will not allow that female to use me like a lab experiment!"

"It's nothing like what they do in MNU! It's a few painful tests of answering her questions and looking at pictures! CHILDREN can do these tests and have!"

"I am now a child! I am ELITE!"

"You elitist bottom feeding crab feeder." Trevor snarled.

"That is enough!" Senator Greg raised his voice ending their shouting match. "This fighting will stop! We are not the animals that MNU makes us out to be. I am calling this meeting to an end."

* * *

Scott was quick to leave. He was still irritated by Trevor and AHE. He simply wanted to be left alone. He wanted to go home to bed and just sleep. However, the night wasn't over yet.

When he was halfway home, a deep hum called to him. "Scott."

Scott paused, and turned his head to a tall shadowed figured standing between two shacks. Nathaniel was wide enough that he nearly took up the space. "This way, please."

Scott tilted his head and stayed where he was. "Why?"

"I want to talk to you."

"About?"

"A private matter."

"A matter so private you have to seek me out in the dead of night to tell me in dark places?"

"Yes."

"Then I do not want to talk."

"I will not hurt you." Nathaniel stepped out into the pathway. "You are a typical Waver. Paranoid and stubborn."

"Smart and determine." Scott corrected. "Tell me what you want or let me go home."

"I have a request that you would not wish to be spoken in the open." Nathaniel teased. "It's concerns breeding. . . "

Scott's antennas flicked upward and he hissed. "Shut up! I'm coming!"

Scott's foot stepped in mud and he cursed Nathaniel as he hobbled into the narrow alley. He wiped his foot on the edge of a board. He would have to get a rag to properly clean it when he returned home. "What is it?"

Nathaniel studied Scott, his wide framed towered over Scott at nearly 9 feet. "I want another child."

Scott was still trying to get the mud off his foot. "Of course, everyone wants to pass on their genes a generation."

"I want to incorporate someone else's genes." Nathaniel replied softly, his eyes never leaving Scott.

Scott glanced up at him, the mud on his foot forgotten. "You want me to fertilize your egg?"

"No, I want to sire your egg."

Scott blinked and was silent for a full minute as numbness from the shock he received from Nathaniel's bluntness. It was customary for a Poleepkwa who wanted to have their egg fertilize to make the request, but it was against etiquette to ask someone to receive fertilization. Especially for someone of Scott's background and mannerism.

Scott stood straight, humiliation and wounded pride making his antennas arch and his claws clench and unclench. "You do realized that if you were not larger than I nor much stronger, I would be tearing into your throat right now."

Nathaniel chuckled enraging Scott more. "Your Elitist pride is shining bright right now."

"And then you can understand my answer is no." Scott growled. "Do not bother me again."

"Scott, wait."

As Scott turned away, his felt his arm grabbed and pulled. Scott whipped his head around and swung an open hand around. At his wrist, sharpened sliver protruded from between two bits of shelling aimed at Nathaniel's throat. A large black claw caught that wrist and twisted it.

Scott hissed in pain and low thrum showed his discomfort. Nathaniel chuckled at him in a series of purrs. "No, I am not in the mood to spend the night with a unmoving numb body. You are overreacting."

"Am I, now?" Scott retorted. "You are the one behaving as a uncouth bastard. Let go!"

Nathaniel released him and Scott rubbed his sore wrist. The shelling was intact, but there was sure to be a bruise beneath it. "Bastard."

"I didn't mean to hurt you, that was not my intention tonight. I only wanted to talk to you." Nathaniel turned away and headed toward the other end of the alley. "We will talk more about this later."

Scott watched Nathaniel disappear around a corner and spat in his direction. He muttered a curse and then headed home.

* * *

Wilkus lifted his tired head when he was awoken by the door being pushed open and banged against the wall. Scott stomped in, heading toward the water basin. "What happened?"

Scott didn't answer. He snatched a rag from the table and shoved it into the water and strangled the water out. Then he shoved himself into a share and began cleaning a muddy foot. The loud noises made Lerato stir uneasily into her sleep.

"Your foot is covered in mud." Wilkus blinked sleepily at him.

"Oh, really? I didn't fucking notice that my goddamn foot had mud on it!" Scott snarled. "Good thing I voted for you to keep living! Who knows what I would do if I didn't have you around to point out the FUCKING OBVIOUS!!!!! GO TO SLEEP BEFORE I PUT YOU TO SLEEP!!!"

Wilkus blinked. He had seen Scott irritated and even angry, but not furious like this. He settled down beside Lerato who had woken up at Scott's roar. She was holding her breath, her heart racing in deep fear. Wilkus placed a soothing claw on her shoulder and whispered, "It's only mud. Don't walk in the middle of the night if you want to avoid puddles."

"Fuck you." Scott snapped.

"No, no, no, mate. Fuck you." Wilkus closed his eyes.

Scott's optic ridge twitched violently and then he went to bed before he did something they would both regret in the morning.


	7. Flower

Wilkus found his daily routine boring. Nicky was pleasant to be around and all, but he wanted something new in his life. Something to occupy his time during a rainy day. Scott was being his usual self, cleaning his possessions and brooding at in his rocking chair. But now Wilkus noticed that he glances out his door more often now. He wanted to ask Scott about it, but he wasn't in the mood to have his head bitten off.

It wasn't until he was out scavenging that he found something to occupy his time. He was kicking through some bit of metal when a flash hurt his eyes making him squint. Shiny, almost clean pieces of tin at his feet. He lowered himself to a squat and picked at it. It was very flexible and could easily be crushed like tin foil of he squeezed hard enough. It was useless in the rough living of District 9.

Yet, he didn't want to throw it away. They were clean, almost brand new. Why would anyone throw them away? Living in poverty had taught him the value of any possession or belonging, no matter how mundane or cheap it is.

"What did you find?" Nicky asked from above.

Wilkus glanced up to see the young Prawn standing over him clutching a flashlight with a broken face and peeled baseball to his chest.

"Weak metal. Not sure exactly what it is called. It's something you can use in arts and crafts." Wilkus muttered showing him the tin.

"Is it anything we can use?" Nicky asked with a tilt of his head.

"Not really. Not unless you guys like art." Wilkus suddenly remembered something he had seen in one of the various home crafts books he had owned in his human life. He collected the rest of the tin and glanced around and found an empty shoe box. Luck was with him today, it seemed.

"You are taking it with you?" Nicky asked watching Wilkus collect the box and pack the tin inside it.

"Yes, I want to try something with it."

"Are you going to try art?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it art. More like a hobby I use to do." Wilkus explain looking around for more tin.

"A hobby? What kind of hobby?" Nicky asked watching Wilkus fascinated.

"I use to make things. Like small gifts for my wife." Wilkus sifted through the garbage and was disappointed that there was no more tin. Then he noticed a red Coca-Cola can, then he brighten. He snagged that and noticed a green Mountain Dew. He grabbed that as well.

"Wife? Oh, right, your mate. Did he like them?"

"_She _loved them." He corrected Nicky glancing at him. He kept forgetting that Prawns did not have rituals nor customs of marriage or lifetime commitments.

"Did h-she make anything for you?" Nicky was sitting on upturn bucket watching Wilkus intensely.

"Not arts and crafts, no. She didn't have the knack for it, but she did lots for things for me instead. She could cook the best meals, kept our home clean, and just being around her. . . it. . . was Heaven. . . " He sagged remembering Tania, his angel.

Her warm smile, her bright blue eyes, and halo of golden hair. When people saw his wife, they would ask him how he got such a beauty to marry him. Him of all people. With his scrawny frame, awkward appearance, and his then low-income job, how did he snag her? He didn't know himself.

He met her at his office's Christmas party. Then, he didn't know her name. She was known only as the boss's daughter. She was more impressed by the crafts he created as a Christmas gift than the one who received it.

"Wilkus. . . ."

He had promised to make her something nice. That was how their courtship began. . . .

"Wilkus!"

Wilkus popped his head up, startled from his memory. "What is it?"

"Humans." Nicky pointed over his head.

Wilkus craned his head around to see a tall black bodyguard with a machine rifle over one shoulder stood against the jeep. There were two other humans. A tall dark haired woman wearing jeans and a thin over shirt was speaking with two Prawns while Anna Stanley was nearby kneeling on the ground with two prawn children.

A small dirty peach colored one was sitting on her lap while she played what looked liked rock, paper, scissors with a second one. Her long soft digits molded the shapes against the short sharp claws of the infant.

The dark hair woman nodded her head to the Prawns who nodded in return. She called to Anna Stanley. The woman patted the playing child on the shoulder and, to Wilkus's surprise, she kissed the head of the woman on her lap. She settled it on the ground next to its playmate and stood straightening her shorts.

Wilkus watch them depart in the jeep. The two prawns spoke with for a moment and then left. One of them departed into his shack and the other herded the children down a path.

"Who were they?"

"AHE." Nicky replied sniffing the hair. "You already seen Anna Stanley. The tall human was Sarah Carter. She's a representative for AHE and a spokesperson. She and Anna have been visiting more often due to the investigation into MNU's policy of non-humans. She thinks now is a good time as any to push forward with equal rights for us because of the news leak of what MNU has been doing."

"Has there been any luck?" Wilkus asked glancing into the distance. Would Scott be wondering where he was?

"Well, a lot of people were angry about the experiments, but some people say that its just rumors and speculation and hoaxes. But Sarah says that AHE is gaining more support."

"Interesting." Wilkus replied to be polite. "I should head back. Scott might be worried."

"No, he's not. But alright. It is getting late. Good bye."

* * *

Scott wasn't pacing the floor. He was instead sitting in his rocking chair staring outside. He jerked surprised when Wilkus slammed the screen door. "Don't slam the door."

"Hello to you too." Wilkus muttered as he crossed to the table and spread his findings on the table.

"What the hell is that?" Scott cocked an eye ridge at the tin.

"Something I found." Wilkus muttered. He stared at the tin and imagined what he wanted to make with it.

"What's it for?" Scott inquired.

"Art."

Scott uttered a low curse and muttered, "Brainless human whimsy."

"It ain't fucking whimsy." Wilkus muttered. He set to work, twisting the tin into shape.

Scott grunted another oath, but settled back into his chair and watched. Wilkus found it difficult with his three digit claws. They weren't as dexterous as human fingers, however he found that with these fingers the tin didn't cut as easily into his hard shell. He found it easily to mold the tin without having to worry about slicing his fingers.

Scott continued to watch him dully, smoking, rocking, and even taking time to open a can of peaches for supper. Wilkus continued to work, absorbed in his work. He always found it relaxing to create things with his hands. It was how he unwired from work, stress, or anxiety.

When he finished, he held up a silver flower shaped from tin. He turned it this way and that watching the light reflect of the edges. Tania would love this. He imagined her eyes lighting up as he presenting it to her and her smile would light up his world like a super nova.

He wanted to give it to her so much it hurt. And it made him angry. So very angry. So many times, he wished he had not fiddled with the fluid containing and sprayed himself. He hated this grotesque body and wanted his own back. He wasn't any Casanova, but he wasn't as ugly as a goddamn prawn.

"Looks good."

He glanced up surprised to see Scott standing over him, studying the flower. Wilkus curled a claw around it, protecting it. "Thank you."

"What's it for?" Scott rolled his cigarette holder between a thumb and foreclaw.

"It's a gift for my wife." Wilkus replied gazing at the tin flower.

"Oh? You are going to return to your home and give it to her?"

"Why not?"

"You are a fucking idiot, you know that."


	8. Flowers 2

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

The reason why there are so many ocs on this fic is because the movie really didn't leave us a lot of canon characters by the end of it. Not many Prawn stood out beside Christopher, his son, and their friend (whom I dub Yellow Jacket). And most characters were either killed or we didn't get to know too well.

Wilkus is Wilkus. Just because he's a Prawn, doesn't mean he stops being Wilkus.

I'm glad there are a lot of Scott fans. I was afraid that no one would like him because he is such a bastard.

Nothing Scott could say or do could dissuade Wilkus.

"You are a fucking idiot." Scott said for the hundredth time. "If you are caught out there on the street, you'll be lucky if all they do is run you off. I have heard of non-humans being shot on sight. Especially in suburban areas!"

"That's why I'm waiting till late to go out. I'll stick to the alleys and backyards. I'll even wearing a cloak."

"A cloak? You don't have a fucking cloak."

"I have this." Wilkus held up the blanket Lerato had brought as payment.

"No!" Scott snagged it out of Wilkus's hand. "That is mine! And you will NOT loose it or get it soaked in your nasty low breed blood when they blow your fucking head off!" Scott threw the blanket back onto his cot and whipped around to glare at the green Poleepkwa.

"Then I'll go outside and find something else. My mind is made up, Scott. I'm going." Wilkus carefully wrapped the flower up in a plain white cloth that he had washed thoroughly and then set out to dry. It was slightly damp, but that was something that couldn't be help. He rested a claw against the small pouch that hung at his neck. Nestled inside was his wedding ring. His claws was too big to wear it.

"Now, you are either coming with me or I'm going alone."

* * *

Wilkus walked alone alone the beaten path between shacks. He had the gift grasped between his claws and his mind racing wildly. Okay, he could do this. He would just have to stay low and stick to the shadows. No one would see him. . .

Damn, he wished Scott would come with him, but the elder Prawn had been adamant that Wilkus would kill only himself in his foolish exploits. Let those with sense live unharmed, thank you very much.

Fuck him.

Wilkus falter in his steps. He knew much more than most that Prawns were shot on sight or reported right away to MNU. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever believe that the regulations that he had spent his whole career upholding with cause him such fear and anxiety. Johannesburg was not a safe place for Prawns at all and Wilkus had helped make it so.

He considered turning around and going back, but he felt the weight of the tin flower in his claws and his determination only strengthen. He could do this. If he could outwit MNU militia and take over MNU HQ and then fight off a small army himself, then he could certainly deliver a flower to his wife's doorstep.

But how he was going to do it. . . was a very big concern.

"Hello."

Wilkus squawked, turned with his antennas flicking and his mandibles clicking. Nicky stood there behind him with bright eyes and his head tilted with curiosity.

Wilkus quickly collected himself, "Just out walking."

"It's not safe to walk out here alone and it's very very late." Nicky inquired smelling that Wilkus was hiding the truth. "Did Scott kick you out?"

"No. . . it's. . . .goddammit, Nicky. Why the fuck are you out here?" Wilkus snapped getting irritated with this youngling.

"Well . .umm. . ." Nicky's laid his antennas back against his head in a shameful dog way. "I'm old enough to be out and about like you."

"Bart doesn't know you are out here. Where is he?"

"Bart is out getting supplies." Nicky said quickly and Wilkus quirked an eye ridge. Nicky was covering something up, but it wasn't important to him now.

"Look, I have to go."

"Go where?"

"Nicky, it's no where fun."

"But then it could be dangerous to go alone."

Wilkus flicked his antennas, then a selfish thought came to mind. He didn't want to go alone. "It could be. I'm going to give my wife a gift."

Nicky jerked his antennas forward. "Oh no! You can't! It's much, much too dangerous."

"I have to. I miss her, she's everything to me. The most important person in my life. I want her to have this." Wilkus continued with a lilt in his voice, "I'd hate to go alone. . . ."

"I'll go with you."

"You don't have to, Nicky."

"No, no, I want to go. It's too dangerous to go alone."

"Have you ever been outside District 9?"

"Well, no, but. . . .I still can't let you go alone. You know the way, right?"

"Oh, yes, but it's a long walk there and back." Wilkus grimaced thinking about the long and torturous he had undertaken when he escaped from MNU and fled to District 9.

"Then we better get going. We need to take advantage the darkness as long as it will last. And I know of a good place to sneak out of the District. Follow me."

* * *

Nicky led the way to the eastern side of District 9. Wilkus followed cautiously behind, clutching the flower to his chest. Where was the youngling leading him?

As they continued, he noticed the shacks were becoming more downgraded. They were smaller, and dirtier, they were almost wading through trash and filth and there were even Prawn's asleep on the path and against worn husks of shacks.

Wilkus carefully stepped over a tall, thin sickly looking Prawn that was more likely dead than asleep. He had thought that he had seen the worst of District 9. It seemed that this small piece of land had more surprises for him than he had imagined.

"Nicky, where are you taking us?"

"Shhhhh, they might hear you." Nicky whispered and then crouched moving forward on all four limbs. He scuttled forward toward a hill created with an abundance of trash.

Wilkus leaned forward, not willing to risk the flower by moving like Nicky. He peer over the edge of the debris and noticed a bright campfire below. Prawns were milling about it, most of them toting guns and possessions, and several were drinking and eating. He could catch the scent of cat food. He even noticed some women amongst them.

Nicky whispered in a series of very soft hums. "Sons of Gharnish."

"Why the fuck are we here?"

"Because this is the safest place to leave District 9. MNU has increased their defenses along the border, but someone this gang has managed to come and go as they pleased. So likely, so can we."

"But, dammit, Nicky, you said that it's safer for us not to be seen by them."

"We won't be seen. We just have to wait a bit for them to pass out drunk or sleeping."

"But we don't have much time to wait. We have to deliver the flower and be back before sun rise."

"I know, I know, but MNU will arrest us or kill us if they catch us trying to leave." Nicky apologized with a bob of his head.

"And we may just kill you for trespassing on our turf." A deep guttural grunts above them came.

Nicky and Wilkus whipped around to see a tall, large black Prawn standing over them with a hatchet in hand.

* * *

Anna Stanley's apartment wasn't the most expensive apartment that was offered, but it was cozy enough for her. It was a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment with a small kitchen. Enough for a moment and white cat.

Penny was rubbing herself against Anna's ankles as she typed at her computer. She was typing away at a word document, recording her experiences with the non-humans.

She was currently viewing a file titled, SH. Something she typed up several months ago.

The text read:

_It was only by chance that I came across the most fascinating subject of the alien. When I had first taken up this role of studying the alien's behavior and mannerism, I would try to attain interviews with MNU employees that worked closely with aliens. Being that it was nearly impossible to go near the aliens due to the strict restrictions._

_I manage to be introduce to a woman who once worked for MNU and had temporarily worked as someone whom the aliens registered with to have children. I managed to find time to talk with her in a bar over drinks. I asked if she ever heard any special jargon or slang used by the aliens._

_It took a few drinks, but she managed to laugh over something an alien said one time. She had been arguing with him about the faulty registration he provided her. He told her that he didn't want to wait five years. She told him that he had to wait. _

_They had gone back and forth about it, until finally loosing her patience, she had shouted, "If you were human, you'd be blond!"_

_He has retorted, "If you were Prawn, you'd have long antennas!"_

_I found this rather interesting and I noted it down. I had forgotten this for a while, until my facility had manage to put enough pressure on MNU to allow us interviews with the aliens. The interviews were conducted supervised and recorded. And they were painfully short. I had to select my questions carefully._

_Most of the aliens were very suspicious and nervous. They came in believing that they were going to be interrogated and looked very confused by the questions I asked them. Some even refused to answer or participate. But still, being in the same room and watching them move and listening to their speech was extraordinary. Here I was, in the same room with sentient creatures that could think for themselves and communicate with actual established language. _

_Fortunately, I interviewed one that was a bit more relaxed than the others and was more talkative. I acquired an extensive amount of knowledge from him. I first discovered that the aliens had their own ethnic groups depending on the climate they were born. The majority of the non-humans were what they called "Grasslanders", they live in open fields. Somewhat like Africa. Was that a reason why their ship landed on the African continent? Because it was a lot like home?  
_

_He mentioned that wavers had long antennas. It instantly brought up the memory of my MNU interview subject and I asked him, "What are. . . "Wavers" like?"_

_He hesitated, looking for the right word. "Well, they complain a lot about things that don't bother most. They aren't happy with a lot of things. The. . . .the word you humans would use would be bitchy."_

_So it seems that the registering alien had called the MNU agent a bitch._

_Afterwards, after pooling the knowledge we received together, my conclusion was met with the others. I was assigned to explore this newly discovered ethnicity among them. It was very easy to interview Grasslanders which were a dime a dozen in District 9. _

_Please see my files for Grasslanders, Rocklanders, etc._

_But I had a hard time finding the elusive waver. I asked around. No one knew or cared to tell me. I was waiting at the jeep. It was mandatory that whenever I visited District 9, I went with an armed escort. _

_During the day, we were parked near a food stand. Two men were chopping up bad meat to sell to the Prawns who created a long line to buy the meat. My eyes passed over their antennas, wondering what the aliens considered long antennas. I never really asked my talkative interviewee exactly how long a Waver's antennas were. It was very likely that no Waver was on the ship at all or may have died out since arriving. _

_Then I noticed a changed in the butcher. He had glanced up and then his tired face hardened in irritation and then he ducked down behind the makeshift table and heft up a grocery bag of cans. I instantly believed them to be cat food, but then I wondered, why did he have cat food at his feet instead of display behind him with the rest of the meager cans._

_Then I saw the object of his scorn. Striding toward the food shack, was a tall pale colored alien. He stood out amongst his darker colored fellows and he wore a faded apron. At first, I didn't believe that he had any antennas, but as he came closer, I saw that his antennas were tied down his back with a few red beads. His antennas were very very long, almost longer than his arm and they were even coiled up within the beads. I had found my Waver._

_He strode past the line. I waited for the other aliens to hiss at him, even try to halt him in cutting ahead, but none of them looked at him. Some glanced at him, but most ignored him._

_He stopped at the table where the bag of cans were and looked inside. I was astounded by him, his movements his eyes. My eyes were glued to him as if I was a school girl discovering her first crush. _

_He was incredibly different from the others. Whereas they slouch or would scuttle around, he walked tall with his head held high. The others were dirty, downtrodden, and even broken, but he moved with a grace that I was certain that they all had at one time and horrible surroundings didn't impede his pride at all. _

_He lifted out a can for further inspection and I saw that it was a can of peaches, not cat food. And I thought I couldn't be more surprised by him than I already was. I had never heard of a omnivore alien. My hand was shaking as I made notes based on what I saw._

_And then more surprised can._

_He actually set aside a few cans. He actually refused food. These aliens were always hungry, desperate for food. They were never picky. They took or stole whatever they could. But this one was actually being picky with his food._

_He and the butcher exchanged words. Unfriendly words, but he did slap his money down on the table down and turn away with the bad and stalk off. I walked him leave, taking note of which way he went until he was out of sight. _

_I waited until the morning rush was over and I headed to the butcher. He looked up at him and said, "You're too pretty to be a Prawn, honey."_

"_I want to ask you some questions, sir." I held up a handful of money._

"_Ask away, honey." _

_I asked him about Scott. He spat on the ground, "That's the prissy Prawn bastard for ya. He won't touch meat or cat food. And he even picks over the can fruit."_

"_What is his name?"_

"_Honey, I don't ask them their names. I only sell them the meat."_

"_Do you know where he lives?"_

_He raised an eyebrow. "I don't go home with 'em either."_

_I made to put the money away, then he raised a hand, "Go down that way, and turn left. Keep going till you see a shack that has no trash around it. That's his place."_

_I handed over the money to him. He pocketed it and then said, "Honey, don't go visiting him."_

"_Is he dangerous? Has he ever done anything violent?"_

"_No, no, doesn't get into fights or starts trouble but. . . .I'm sure you noticed, lady, these bastards are always fighting or hollering at each other. But not one, NOT one of them has so much casted an ill look his way in the five year I've been doing this. Not one of them bothers him. Why is that, honey? Why? I tell you, they know something about him that we don't know."_


	9. Flowers 3

"Oh, hi, Nathaniel." Nicky said in a quiet tone.

Wilkus flicked his antennas in surprise. "You know him?"

"He's one of Bart's. . .. . friends." Nicky replied.

"It's been a long time, Nick. You've molted yet, haven't you?" The black Prawn slide his hatchet through a loop in a leather belt hanging loosely around his waist.

"I have." Nicky replied, and Wilkus noticed that he didn't look very enthused about being greeted by a supposed friend. He kept glancing away and his antennas were flow against his head. Despite the familiarity between them, it was apparent that Nicky was not happy to see this guy.

Not happy at all.

Nathaniel reached down and hauled them both to their feet easy as if he was lifting up dolls. He clapped a claw on their shoulders hard enough for their shells to rattle. "You two, come with me. We have plenty of food and drink and if you are old enough, human females."

Wilkus sputtered shaking his head, "Sorry, we don't want to impose. . . "

"Of course! We will share food with you, if there is plenty enough." Nicky said loudly.

Wilkus threw Nicky a blazing glare, but Nicky lowered his antennas and gave him a beseeching look.

"Follow me then." Nathaniel gave them both another clap that made their shells rattled. He spun on his feet and stalked off down a slope toward the fire.

Wilkus hung back with Nicky and when he was certain that he was out of earshot of the larger Prawn he hissed at Nicky, "What the fuck, man!?"

"I'm sorry. I really am, but Nathaniel is a High Rocklander. And nothing offends them more than having an invitation rejected to their faces. And trust me, you do NOT want to offend Nathaniel." Nicky kept his head down and followed after the black shape.

"What does being a High Rocklander mean?" Wilkus asked. He was still very much irritated by this delay.

"Bart says he comes from the upper level tribes. Beyond that, I don't know."

"Tribes?" Wilkus shook his head. "You Prawns got to remember you no longer on your planet."

Nicky looked at Wilkus and said, "Humans remind us of that everyday."

* * *

Scott stared out the small window that was a gap between two hammered boards. It was the usual window that he brooded from with cigarette in hand. He tapped the stub into a chipped ashtray where several stubs had collected.

Lerato was sitting at the table, her arms folded and her chin rested on her arms. He glanced at her, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I'm worried about William." She replied. "Did he go away?"

"No, he just went on an errand. He'll be back. I can't get rid of freeloaders that easily." He drew deeply on the black tube of his cigarette holder. "Whether you sleep or not, I am not doing refunds."

"Okay, I understand." Lerato murmured. "Is William your family?"

"No, I promised a friend that I'd looking after him for a while." Scott dropped the cloth that he used as blinds for the window.

"I think you are worried too."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're not asleep either."

* * *

Wilkus noticed something after he changed species. Cat food to this race was exquisite. And there was plenty of it with this outfit.

It seemed that a new can was shoved into his claws each time he finished with one. It has been so long since he was able to eat as much as he wanted.

He leaned back against oil drums wondering at the feeling of a full stomach. Nicky has eaten sparingly and refused to touch the offered beer.

Wilkus felt a bit buzzed. It wasn't complete beer. He knew that the aliens mixed something else in it to make it more compatible in their biology, but he didn't care to know what exactly.

The conversation went along the lines or cursing MNU, complaining about the regulation, cracking jokes, and just the regular chat during any drinking. There was one lively character that couldn't sit still. He was bounding from one seating spot to another, barely staying long enough to exchange a few words. This Prawn was a red. Crayon Red coloring with barely any other blend of color in his shell.

He wore gold and silver bracelets at his wrists, and armlets at his upper arms. Even gold glinted from his antennas where human rings had been push along the length of them. He was annoying and his speech was a more high pitch than the other low grunts. Wilkus guessed that he was a youngling like Nicky, but more wired.

Wilkus scanned the small gathering and recognized a face among the handful of women there. He remembered her from the prostitutes that waited outside the showering facility when it was open. It was the young blond and blue eyed prostitute. Seeing her sobered him and flooded him with guilt. He remembered his true purpose of going out that night.

She glanced at him and met his gaze. She tilted her head as if waiting. Jesus, she thought he was interested. He quickly snatched his gaze away and made a show up reaching for another can of cat food despite being full. When he peeked back to make sure she wasn't looking, she was turning a corner with dark brown prawn. His shell crawled with disgust at the crude images that slithered through his head and he felt as if he could upchuck his food right there on the spot. He wanted to leave this place and get very far away.

As if sensing his desire to leave, Nicky turned to their host, Nathaniel. "We have to get going now. We were headed out."

"Out of District 9? You two alone?" Nathaniel looked genuinely surprised. Likely, he had believed that they had approached them out of curiosity.

"Yes, it's just one trip there and back." Nicky replied. "I was told that it was safer to leave this away."

"Ah, that it is. How far are you going?" Nathaniel set a food on a log that Nicky had perched on and was leaning over them, his red eyes seeking answers from their faces.

Nicky glanced at Wilkus and shrugged. The green prawn hesitated and said, "To a suburban district."

Nathaniel's antennas flicked in surprise and then he spoke in a low tone. "That is very far and very dangerous. Even we try not to head out that way unless we have to. Why do you want to go out there?"

Wilkus and Nicky remained silent. It had been agreed upon between them that their errand was not to be mentioned at all to anyone.

Nathaniel watched them for moment and then drew back. "I understand. We don't publicize what we do all the time, but here is what I can do. I can show you the safest route to go."

"You can?" Wilkus lifted his head expectedly.

"Yes, follow me." Nathaniel turned and walked toward a lean-to that was built into a uprise of garbage and earth.

Wilkus unsteadily got to his feet and Nicky rose, with an unhappy look on his face. Wilkus wanted to ask him what the problem was, but he was more interested in what Nathaniel had to show them.

The lean-to was covered with a long flap of rug which was easily brushed aside to reveal a gapping hole. Nathaniel picked up a flashlight from a small shelf set up on the right and shone it downwards.

"A tunnel?" Wilkus murmured. "So this is where it has been?" MNU had always suspected that the Prawns had been using the sewers to sneak out, but all investigations had turned up nothing.

"Hmm? You say something?" Nathaniel murmured, giving Wilkus his full gaze. It wasn't a curious gaze, but a look expecting something from him.

Wilkus quickly corrected himself, "We knew that you guys had a way of getting in and out. We always thought that you went above ground, not under it."

"Good save." Nathaniel replied making the blood in Wilkus's veins run cold.

They held each other's gaze for several moments while Nicky looked nervously back and forth between them. Finally Nathaniel's face relaxed into an alien smile and he clicked, "Head east for about three miles then north for five miles. Long trek, but it'll take you close to where you want to go."

"Thank you, Nathaniel. You have been very generous and helpful." Nicky said quickly. "We must go now. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure."

* * *

Lerato finally drifted off to sleep, but it was with her head on her folded arms. Scott was stilling glancing out the window and smoking. He often had to wave the smoke out the window to keep it from turning into a very bad sauna. He never meant to adapt a habit to it, but it relaxed him and he found that he liked it more than he had believed.

He had only taken it up to get that Stanley woman to leave him alone. She had came to him at a bad time. His son had left two weeks before . . . .

_His eye ridges rose when he heard the timid knock at his door. Who the hell was that? One of the members? Christopher? No, if it was them they would be banging on it, not tapping on it. And it was too strong to be CJ. _

"_Hello? Scott Haroldson?"_

_Human! MNU!?_

_No, not them. If it was MNU they would banging down the door and shouting MNU and ordering him out. Not bothering to call him by his given name. And this was a female voice?  
_

_Was the goddamn prostitutes going around offering their services like girl scout cookies?_

_The knocking continued and the rocking chair creaked as he pushed himself from it. He crossed easily to the door and pulled it open._

_He looked down and there was a human female with brown hair pulled back from her face in a series of tresses and thick frame glasses was perched on her nose. _

"_My name is Anna Stanley. I'm here on an assignment for Thales, and I also work with AHE. Alien-Human Equality."_

"_I know what it is. What does it want with me?"_

"_My assignment is to interview and write up paper concerning the diversity of your race. We learned for the first time that your race is diversify. I was hoping to use you as a subject for my chapter on. . . Wavers."_

_Scott could have been more shocked or stunned if she sprouted wings, a tail, and a second head before him. He said the first thing that entered his mind. "No."_

"_Um, sorry?"  
_

"_No, I don't want to participate. Please, leave me alone." Scott drew back into his home and let the door shut._

_Her hand caught it, stopping it. Scott's haunches rattled as the invasion and rude persistence of this female. "Sir, I don't think you understand what I'm trying to do. I believe that the more we learn of your culture and people, the more likely you will receive the rights you deserve."_

"_I do understand, I just don't want to participate." Scott pushed on the door gently. He was trying to be nice and anyone who knew him would be shocked._

"_But, you are the only Waver who came off the ship when it arrived. There is one other, but. . .I'm unable to find him." The human commented. _

"_You won't." Scott muttered quickly. "He's gone."_

"_Oh, I didn't know. That means that you are the only Waver left." _

"_Thank you for reminding me." Scott replied dryly. "I want you to leave now."_

"_It's just a few questions." _

"_A few too many. Please, just leave."_

_* * * _

She came back the next day, and the next. Once she tried to bribe him with cat food and even scribbled in her notes when he outright refused it.

Until finally, on one dusty day, she took out her inhaler and upon noticing Scott watching her inhale upon it, she explained to him that she has asthmas.

He took up smoking the next day.

* * *

"Who the hell was that guy?"

Wilkus'sclicks bounced off the concrete walls and ceiling in a deep echo.

"Nathaniel, he's the leader of Sons of Gharnish. Bart said that he came from the ship and he was someone important."

"Does he . . . .know about me?"

They stuck to the "street" on either side of the river of sewage and water. Occasionally a rat would scurry by and be splashing in the water as it swam by. The smell was . . . .strange. It reeked and it made him want to hold his breath and yet sometimes he scented something intriguing.

"Yeah, I'd be surprised if he didn't know." Nicky muttered in a very tired tone. Wilkus wondered if the youngling regretted coming with him. It was too late now to turn back now.

"Is he. .. well. . . .is he dangerous?"

Nicky made a long deep grunt. It was a Prawn version of "duh!" "Everyone in District 9 is dangerous, but Nathaniel, he hates humans. Really really hates them. He only tolerates the females because they aren't a threat and he uses them to bring over new members and keep his current members happy."

"You sound like you don't like him." Wilkus commented as they came to a set of steps that lead up to a manhole above.

"I don't. He and Bart. . . they had a disagreement. Bart would snap my antennas off when he hears that I shared a meal with him." Nicky fretted as Wilkus climbed up the inset ladder to peek through to see where they are.

Wilkus carefully pushed up on the metal lid. He only had to exert a bit of force and the lid lifted with a small grind of metal against stone. His improved strength as a Prawn never ceased to amaze him. He took his peek and set the lid back down. "Forget it, we're still downtown. We have to keep going north."

Nicky sighed. "Why did you choose to live so far north?"

"I didn't. Tania's father did. He bought us the house as a wedding present." Wilkus dropped down, landing on his feet easily when it would have broken his legs in another lifetime.

"Why did he do that? Didn't you two already have a home?" Nicky asked as he lopped after the long stride of Wilkus.

"Not together. I mean, I had my apartment and she was still living with her parents. When we married, we moved in together." Wilkus explained. "Tania's father just wanted to make sure she was taken care of."

"He didn't trust you to do that?" Nicky asked, perplexed. "And why couldn't she take care of herself? She's an adult."

Wilkus sighed, his head sagging and his antennas following suit. Nicky always reminded him that the concept of marriage was a very alien and strange thing to them. They didn't mate for life, hell, they don't even understand commitments as simple as boyfriend or girlfriend. They didn't even date. It was, "Let's have a baby!" And then they mated and if they were friends, they helped each other raise the kid, if not, then "thanks for the sterilization. I hope the kid has your tentacles!" It was especially hard to explain it to them when they all are hermaphrodites and don't understand the differences between the sexes, behavior or treatment.

"Nicky, I explained to you that fathers like to take care of their daughters."

"Yes, but you also explained that husbands are suppose to take care of their wives. So if Tania was your wife. . . .then why didn't her father trust you to take care of her?"

Wilkus paused in mid-step. Tania's father had iron grip on their lives since their marriage. In fact, it was before the marriage that he took control. He had given Wilkus a promotion after they announced their engagement, he paid for the wedding, arrange their honey moon and gave them a house for their wedding. Anytime they wanted to do something big, like purchase a new car or go on a trip, she checked with her father. Was their a decision that they ever made on their own?

"Wilkus?"

"Nicky, just shut up, please."


	10. Fowers 4

_Fuck._

_Someone was in his shack, his home. His home. _

_Fuck._

_Scott could tell, he scented the disturbance in the air. His home was whole when he left, now it felt to him as if something had walk through the front door, punching a hole through the safe bubble of his haven. _

_He swung the plastic bag of cans against his thigh as he stalked to the door. He clenched a fist, a thin needle slid up between two slivers of shell at his wrist. This wasn't the first time he had to contend with an intruder._

_He dropped the bag onto the ground. The cans clanked together and the plastic rustled as it came into rest. He stalk to the door and shoved it opened. He glanced around, his mandibles clicking and his head flicked toward the source of a high gasp._

_A human was sitting in the corner, her arms around her knees clutched to her chest. Burn marks dotted her forearms, some fresh, some healed. She stared at up with small brown eyes and the moonlight from the doorway made her brown skin seem darker. She was young, almost a child._

"_What the fuck?" He snapped shocked staring at her numbly. He had expected another Poleepkwa trying to claim his shack or steal food. Never had he ever imagine that a human child would be in his shack._

_She didn't respond. She just stared at him with frightened eyes and her hands trembling. He stepped out, snagging his bag and held the door open. "LEAVE!"  
_

_She tucked herself back into her ball and shook her head._

"_Leave!" He pointed at the door. He snapped his arm back and forth, motioning for her to go._

_She shook her head._

_He dropped the back on the table and stalked to her. He would drag her out of here if he had to. She shrieked and kicked her legs, trying to back away from him despite having her back against the wall. "No! Let me stay, please!"_

"_You have to go! The last thing I need is to be accused of kidnapping children, especially human children, now get the hell out! Go home!"_

_She cringed away from him. "I can't! My father will beat me!"_

"_Then don't go home! But go somewhere else!" He snagged her arm and tried to pull her to her feet, but she refused to use her legs. He only succeeded in lifting her off the floor. Fine, he could carry her. _

_He carried her by the arm toward the door. The girl grabbed the edge of the table and the legs skidded across the dirt floor. The bag slipped off the edge and clang to the floor. He thrummed a low growl as the cans rolled across the floor in different directions._

_The girl even clung to his legs, pleading with him. He shoved her back, sending her skidding across the dirt. He squatted low and hissed, "I don't want you here."_

"_Please, let me stay here. He's looking for me." _

"_You can't stay here. This is not a place for humans." _

_* * * _

Finally, at long last, after 3 hours of traveling the sewers of Johannesburg, they finally arrived at the neighborhood that Wilkus had once called home.

Fortunately, Wilkus's old neighbor hadn't gotten over his habit of leaving the garage door open. They tucked themselves against the Mazda and watched the house. The lights were off and the house made Wilkus's heart weep as memories poured over him. The hundreds of times that he would arrive from work to see her tending her garden, cleaning, or cooking. He always kissed her when he arrived. No matter what she was doing or where she was.

He knew it would be hard to see his home again, but he never expected it to hurt. To actually physically hurt.

He should be able to enter that front door and find his wife. He should have the right to return home, sleep in his bed, take regular hot showers and eat as much as he wanted in his own home.

If he had been human, tears would be rolling down his cheeks. Instead, his antenna's drooped low and he made a soft keening sound. Nicky touched his shoulder, startling him from his misery.

"If you keep doing that, then someone will hear."

"I know." He replied.

It was a very simple thing to do. To place a small thing on someone's doorstep, but it took great self restraint to keep from seeking out the key they hide in a small slot atop of the door and entering his own home. What had once been considered a natural thing to do, go into his own home to lay in bed with his wife, was not forbidden and suicidal and his heart broke at the overwhelming sense of loss all over again. He stood at the white door of his home and stared at it. His claw aching to reach for the knob.

It was Nicky who grabbed that hand and hissed, "Hurry."

And Wilkus was dragged away from his home and human life all over again, but the ache was not lesser than the first time.

* * *

The return to District 9 was made in silence. Nicky tried to speak with Wilkus, but the once human alien refused to speak. His antennas tilted downward and flicking revealed his sadness and grief. He almost wished that he had never decided to give the flower to his wife. The visit had reopened old wounds that had healed during his time in District 9 and just as he had come to accept life there, visiting his old home resumed his home sickness all the more.

He couldn't go to his true home, nor could he go back to the home he was forced into it. Then he was angry. His mandibles clicked loudly and Nicky gave him a nervous look. "Wilkus?"

"Shut up, Nicky."

"Sorry."

What exactly was Nicky apologizing for, Wilkus didn't know or care. He was irritated with the young Prawn because he was a huge reminder of what he had become and where he was going to. A dirty, disgusting slum, that was full of filth and danger, and where he would be spit on by humans and forced to scratch out a bare living in the junkyard. And what angered him worst, is that very likely it was karma for that he had helped make the slums what they were now.

He was the one that that pushed petition to improve living conditions for the non-humans in shredders. He was the one who kept postponing plans for plumbing and running power to District 9 to save on costs for MNU. He was reaping what he had helped sow.

* * *

By the time they had returned to the Sons of Gharnish had finished their party. Several were still past out about the dying fire and others were milling about eating and speaking. Some glanced at them as they traveled through the empty campground.

Wilkus sniffed the morning age and his eyes gazed over the gray light of morning. Campfires were dying out across the district and non-humans were scuttling out of their shacks. When they were well away from the Sons of Gharnish territory.

Nicky ran a claw over his antennas and murmured. "I better get home. Bart and Father will know that I been out all night."

"I'm sorry." Wilkus replied automatically. It had been instilled in him to apologized despite not feeling one iota of guilt.

"It's alright." Nicky accepted his empty apology whole heartedly. "Bart will be angry with me, but don't worry, I'll make him understand it was my decision. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

* * *

When Wilkus pushed open the screen door, he barely ducked a pot that was flying toward his face. It clipped his antennas and banged against the edge of the door. He cursed and raised his claws, "Goddammit, Scott!"

Scott turned around to cleaning his items, his daily routine. "I thought you were a scavenger."

"Yeah, fucking right." Wilkus replied dryly. He let the door slam shut behind him and walked toward his cott. "Lerato came last night?"

"Yes and no, you are not sleeping."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because you still got chores to do." Scott muttered. He slammed a ceramic pot down and glared at him. "You don't stay up all night and sleep all day and not do your work. Go outside and make sure the yard is clean."

"It's clean." Wilkus muttered.

"Go out and make sure."

"I just fucking came in from outside. Its clean. It's always clean. You never put anything out. I never put anything out. Nobody DARES put anything around your shack. NOTHING IS OUT THERE TO MAKE A MESS SO LET ME SLEEP!!!!"

There was a silence, and Wilkus knew that he made a bad mistake.

Scott was facing him, his arms crossed and his pale eyes leveled at him into twin pin points of silent anger. "If there is no trash out there, then there shouldn't be anything to stepping outside and giving me that reassurance. Because, as you said, this is my shack and you are here on my charity. And trust me when I say that this, I am not into charity as AHE is. I did this as a favor for a friend, and a friend who is no longer around, I should mention."

Scott's eye ridges were low in his hot glare at him. Wilkus was mentally cursing himself and Scott. Himself, for not just simply doing as Scott asked and Scott for being a bastard. But Wilkus didn't curse, instead he muttered, "Sorry."

He shuffled toward the door, but Scott raised a claw, halting him. "Wait."

Wilkus raised his antennas, believing that Scott wanted to berate him some more. But then he sensed it too. He could never fully put his finger on what told him. His antennas or his scent glands told him that an agitated Prawn was approaching the shack at a quick pace.

Scott marched the door and pushed it opened. Wilkus peeked at the hole above his bedding that he and Lerato both shared one night to spy on Scott and his son. He could see Bart approaching the shack in long strides, his eyes glaring, and his mandibles clicking. Wilkus felt his blood turn cold and he knew that Bart was angry and was seeking him.

Scott stood at the doorway and remained as firm as a stonewall, his eyes set in a firm gaze at the approaching Bart.

As the much larger non-human approach and his huge frame filled the door frame, Scott didn't flinch or move. "You're here for an early visit, Bart?"

"I want William." Bart snarled in a guttural tone.

"Want doesn't get." Scott muttered, he leaned against the open, his arms crossed. Though the pose was relaxed, there was a charged alertness that Wilkus sensed from him. "What do you want from him?"

"He took Nicky with him out of District 9 to a human living area."

There was a long silence and Wilkus knew that he was very deep shit.


	11. Consequences

"Do you sometimes not think? Or are you so selfish that it means nothing to you to endanger someone else's life for your own petty whims?"

Scott's hard pale eyes were on Wilkus now and he was feeling their full weight on him. "He. . . .he wanted to come."

"Of he wanted to go! He's young and stupid!" Scott glanced at Bart who was allowed to enter the hovel. "Pardon my insult to you brother, Bart."

Bart shook his large head. "No, he justified it last night."

"What was I supposed to do? Tell him, 'no, go home,'?" Wilkus muttered.

"That would have been a start! Or better yet, not go at all!" Scott snapped. "Dammit, Wilkus! You have no idea how much danger you were in going to human areas!"

"That's not the top of it." Bart said, his amber eyes burning into Wilkus's soul. "They paid a visit to the Sons of Gharnish. In fact, they had a sit down with Nathaniel."

Scott froze. Wilkus never saw the opinionated Scott at a loss for words before. He watched the pale Prawn dropped himself heavily into his rocking chair and touch his claw to his forehead. This, Wilkus knew, was the akin to a human pinching the bridge of their nose.

Scott sat like that for a full minute. Bart continued to glare at Wilkus, his antennas arched and posed as very thin daggers.

"Wilkus." Scott muttered. "When you fuck you. . . you really fuck up."

"Scott. . . "

"Shut up." Scott pushed himself to his feet. "Just shut up. You have no idea what you've done last night! You have no idea what you have done to Nicky and to Bart and possibly to me!"

Scott yanked a packet of cigarettes from his apron pocket and fumbled one out of the pack and set it into the cigarette holder he snatched up from the table. He lit it and slapped the lighter onto the table. "You tell me everything that happened after you left here and don't leave a damn thing out."

So Wilkus, under the heavy gaze of two angry Prawns recalled everything that happened last night. Meeting Nicky, going to the Sons of Gharnish territory, and the walk through the sewers. He finally got to the delivery of the flower and Scott snorted with disgust and Bart shook his head. It angered Wikus to think that his giving a gift to his wife was thought of as mundane. "Then we came home the same way."

"You don't realize the total amount of shit you have thrown us into." Scott snarled at him, pointing a lit cigarette at him. The end was glowing bright as if to match the Waver's rage.

"No one saw us!"

"I'm not talking about going into the human area. What I am talking about is the little sit down you had with Nathaniel." Scott crammed his cigarette out in the ashtray and then lit another. "You have set up a tie between us and Nathaniel."

"All we did was eat something. It doesn't mean anything!" Wikus flicked his antennas in deep irritation. He wanted very much to be left alone and sleep off the nights events, but the glaring Bart kept him at bay and Scott's sharp tongue made him flinch.

"Not to humans." Scott snapped pointing a claw in Wilkus's face. "How many fucking times do I have to remind you that we are not humans! Different race, different culture!"

"So what is going to happen now?"

"I don't know. And that is what scares the shit out of me." Scott muttered turning away with a newly lit cigarette. "Bart, you're a Rocklander, what do you think?."

"Though we are both Rocklanders, Nathaniel is a High Rocklander, that means more rules and more etiquette, but knowing Nathaniel, he'd use his background to his advantage."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stay home for a while. Keep Nicky under watch and he's not allowed out alone. . . .with him." Bart shot Wikus a look that made the smaller Prawn step back in.

"Fine, I understand." Scott muttered turning back to resume his cleaning. "Shouldn't be a problem because this one will be sticking close to home for the next while if he knows what is good for him."

Wilkus kept his mouth. . . .mandibles shut. He had a nervous feeling from watching the concern Scott was having regarding the meeting with Nathaniel. Who was Nathaniel? Wasn't he just a leader of the local Prawn gang?

Bart left, and Scott slammed the door shut behind him and turned on Wilkus. "You're a moron."

"Why is Nathaniel so dangerous?" Wilkus asked as the pale alien stalked over to the table and set his cigarette holder across an ash tray.

"Firstly, he hates humans and he knows about you. Secondly, he's bigger and stronger than us." Scott stormed over to the counter where he kept his items and grabbed a rag to begin his ritualistic cleaning of his belongings.

"There's more to it than that." Wikus crossed his arms. "A lot more to it than that. What does his "background" mean?"

"Background means background." Scott grunted and then eyed Wikus with cold eyes. "You know that Bart used to be part of Nathaniel's gang."

"Yeah, but he left."

Scott snorted, "That's not how Nathaniel sees it. He thinks of it as Bart taking time away to care for an ailing father. He expects Bart to return to the fold when his father recovers or passes away. And he'll also expect Bart to take Nicky to join as well."

Wikus dropped his arms to his sides and shifted his feet. "Soooo. . . . Nicky showing up for dinner. . . ."

"Is not a very good thing." Scott finished for him. "And you're being there is just as bad for me."

"I get the feeling that there is a lot of shit going on that you're aren't telling me." Wikus accused with a jab of a clawed fore finger.

"Oh, there is always shit going on that you don't know about. Same as when you were an MNU bitch." Scott snapped his mandibles grinding.

Wikus's ridges rose up as he finally realized something. "It's something you don't want me to know. . .since I was with MNU?"

"No, its something I don't want you to know since very likely you'll fuck it up more than you already did." Scott swabbed at a jar that contained what little money he had.

Before Wikus could come up with a witty retort, there was a harsh knock at the door. Scott set the jar down and turned to face the door. "See who it is."

Wikus stepped over to look through the screen door. Standing outside was a bright red Prawn, the same one from last night who had been dashing about as if he had a huge sugar rush. The rings were still glinting from his antennas and he was peering into the shack with huge orange eyes while a plastic bag hung from his hand. "Heya, brought ya somethin'."

Wikus blinked, "And you are?"

"Uhhhh. . . my MNU tag is. . . uh. . . .Wilbur. . . .but my true name is Drish. . . brought ya stuff." He held up the bag as proof that he came in peace.

"Whose it from?" Scott called stiffly.

"Nathaniel. . . I mean Gharnish."

Wikus quirked a brow, he had thought that Gharnish was the devil to the Prawns. Why was Nathaniel walking around as that as his alien name name? He glanced at Scott for enlightenment and saw that the older Prawn had a firm cold look on his face. "Set it on the front and go back."

"Any messages for Gharnish?" Wilbur called back.

"Yeah, go fuck himself."

"Yessir!" Wilbur dumbly set the bag down and walked away without another word.

Wikus cracked open the door and grabbed the bag. He was surprised at how heavy it was. And it held the scent of meat.

He set it on the table and looked through it. It was a treasure of food and supplies. Ten cans of cat food, ten cans of various fruits, and slices of meat along with bottles of water, paper towels, and plastic wrapped bars of soap. These things were expensive and hard to come by in the district for Prawns.

"This is. . . . great!"

"This is horrible!" Scott hissed at him staring at the items. "Put it in the corner and don't touch it!"

"We need these things!"

"Yes, but we don't need the trouble that will come with them." Scott clicked as he grabbed the bag and slung it to a corner and set it there. "Do not touch this, do you understand!"

"No, and I will fucking eat whats in the bag unless you explain to me what the fuck is going on!"

"Nathaniel is dangerous." Scott snarled. "You gave him an invite into this household by eating his food. He returned the favor by giving us a gift."

"Whats wrong with that!

Scott rubbed the space between his eyes. "Nathaniel is a High Rocklander. . . .they have. . . . rules and etiquette, and severe consequences if those rules are broached. Meaning, that if he thinks that we have insulted him by refusing his gift, he can have good reason to come up behind us one day and snatch our heads off our necks."

Wikus looked at Scott, expecting him to smile or laugh at his own joke, then realized. . . it was no joke. "What?"

"Then he could easily shoot us in the heads, but then again he's too mean for a quick death."

"What?"

"He'll likely want to see the terror in our eyes as he wrenches our heads hard enough to break the shelling and then twist some more until he disengages the tendons. . . ."

"What?"

The last thing we'll see is the world spinning around and around after he tosses it. You know we can live for exactly 30 seconds after decapitation. . . 45 seconds at the most."

"Man, just accept the gift! I don't want to die!"

"I can't and I won't!' Scott scoffed as he turned away to resume cleaning his possessions. "It'll be just as bad if we accept. It'll build a tie between his household and ours."

"What's wrong with being friends!" Wikus muttered shaking his head. "It sounds like its safer to be his friend than his enemy!"

"Because he wants more than friendship from us. . . or from me." Scott muttered. He set the rag and item he was cleaning aside. He turned to Wikus, "What I am about to tell you doesn't leave this shack, understand? I am only telling you this so you'll understand why this is bad."

Wikus nodded, "Okay, what?"

"Nathaniel wants me to bear him a child." Scott muttered in a low sets of clicks.

Wikus stared at him. "What's the real reason?"

"That's the real reason, you moron!" Scott snarled, his eyes flashing.

It took a full minute for Wikus to absorb this information and for his brain to process a response. "You're a male."

"No, we're hermaphrodites. We have both parts. How else can we self-reproduce?"

Wikus remembered the conversation he had with Bart and Nicky with what seemed so long ago now of how a prawn could ask a friend to fertilize another to produce a child with both parent's traits. "Why. . . you?"

"He wants a kid with his brawn, but with my brains." Scott explained as he wiped down his clock. "I told him no, but because of this little stint, he might try to press the issue."

Wikus was quiet for a long moment, "Why. . . you already had a kid. . . .don't you prawns reproduce faster than rabbits?"

Scott set the clock firmly on the counter. "Doesn't mean that we don't care for our kids. Nathaniel comes from High Rocklanders. . . warrior tribe. Run like your dog packs with dominates and such. In their society, a dominate, like Nathaniel could mate with someone of his choosing having them bear the egg, and he raises the youngling himself. I don't want anymore children, certainly not a child that will be taken from me to be raised by a crazy that names himself Gharnish who leads a fucking gang."

Wikus was quiet for a long moment. "Could he. . . force the issue?"

"Rape me?" Scott turned stunned at the question. "No, of course not. Rape is something your kind does. No Poleepkwa would ever try such a thing and it wouldn't do any good. Even if. . . by some far fetched crazy idea in the realm of the impossible that Nathaniel tried to force himself on me. . . .I have to be receptive to his fertilization and that is something he simple cannot force. His ejaculation would be as useless inside me as water if he wanted to go that route."

Wikus furrowed his brow. "Wait, then why all the accidental pregnancies? All the eggs we keep finding and destroying? If that is the case, then why all the eggs if you guys are able to reject semen?"

Scott gave him a prawnish smirk. "I wasn't talking about all Poleepkwa. . . I was talking about just me. My kind, Wavers, have the ability to accept or reject seed. We never have accidental births in the Islands."

"And Nathaniel knows this. . . right?"

Scott stared at Wikus quizzically. "It's common knowledge. Why? Worried about me?"

The once human prawn snorted. "Now likely!"


End file.
